STACK 
ANNEX 


EMIIY  LOVE' T  C 


1  U 


lie  Craze  of  Christina 


BY 

MRS.  EMILY  LOVETT  CAMERON 

AUTHOR    Or 

'A   DIFFICULT  MATTER,"    "A  FAIR  FRAUD,"    "IN  A  GRASS  COUNTRY,' 
ETC.,   ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

STREET  &  SMITH,  PUBLISHERS 
238  WILLIAM  STREET 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1899 

By  STREET  &  SMITH 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


THE  CRAZE  OF  CHRISTINA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"WHAT  would  you  like  done,  sir?" 

Clifford  looked  helplessly  about  him. 

"I — I  am  sure  I  haven't  the  faintest  'idea, 
Docker,"  he  replied  feebly,  after  a  short  pause 
that  was  brimful  of  misery. 

All  over  the  great  gaunt  desolate  drawing- 
room  that  had  not  been  used  for  half  a  century, 
the  dust  lay  in  a  thick  impalpable  mantle,  like 
a  veil  of  soft  gray  wool.  Docker  had  thrown 
back  the  shutters  from  one  of  the  five  tall  win- 
dows that  stretched  away  down  one  side  of  the 
room  into  a  dim  vista  of  seemingly  intermina- 
ble length;  and  the  pale  winter  daylight  crept 
weirdly  in  over  the  worn  and  faded  satin  hang- 
ings, and  the  broken  spindle-legged  furniture, 
and  threw  ghostlike  reflections  across  the  vast 
misty  faces  of  a  long  row  of  mirrors  in  tar- 
nished gilt  frames,  that  filled  in  the  whole  length 
of  the  opposite  wall. 

Between  the  mirrors  and  the  windows— mid- 

2072231 


6  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

way  as  it  were  betwixt  heaven  and  earth — hung 
two  huge  glass  luster  chandeliers  whose  cold 
icy  fingers  clanked  faintly  against  one  another 
at  the  unaccustomed  reverberation  of  human 
footsteps  over  the  long-untrodden  parquet  floor; 
whilst,  to  complete  the  picture  of  desolation,  a 
couple  of  mice  shot  suddenly  from  beneath  a 
ponderous  settee — amongst  whose  stuffings  and 
springs  they  were  engaged  in  ministering  to  the 
needs  of  a  promising  young  family — and  scam- 
pering swiftly  down  the  long  room,  with  an 
eerie  rustle  of  tiny  claws  upon  the  carpetless 
boards,  disappeared  again  under  the  gloom  of  a 
sombre  ebony  cabinet  in  the  far  distance. 

Clifford  shivered. 

Three  months  ago  he  had  been  only  a  poor 
devil  of  a  struggling  journalist,  rising  early  and 
toiling  late,  grinding  out  endless  wretched  little 
articles  for  penny  weekly  papers  far  on  into  the 
night — articles  that  were  sometimes  accepted 
and  sometimes  rejected,  so  that  he  had  had  ever 
a  pleasing  uncertainty  in  his  mind  as  to  where 
his  next  day's  dinner  was  to  come  from,  and 
whether  or  no  he  would  in  any  case  have  pence 
enough  left  in  his  pocket  to  wash  down  his 
meager  fare  with  a  glass  of  beer. 

To-day  he  is  master  of  Esselton  Hall,  with  a 
rent  roll  of  £8,000  a  year;  and  he  has  youth 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  7 

and  health  and  good  looks  on  his  side  as  well, 
and  the  world  is  at  his  feet! 

And  yet  at  this  moment  he  almost  wishes 
himself  back  again  in  his  shabby  back  attic  in 
the  mean  little  street  leading  out  of  the  Totten- 
ham-court Road! 

This  half-formulated  and  wholly  insensate 
desire,  was  principal!}?  on  account  of  Docker. 
For  to  have  unexpectedly  inherited  the  hoarded- 
up  wealth  of  a  half-crazy  old  miser,  who  had 
never  taken  the  faintest  notice  of  him  during 
his  life,  almost  paled  into  insignificance  beside 
the  awful  fact  of  having  inherited  his  butler  as 
well. 

Docker  was  not  only  terrible  in  his  majestic 
solemnity,  in  the  imperturbable  gravity  of  his 
mien,  in  the  cold  contempt  of  his  pale  gray  eye, 
in  the  immaculate  whiteness  and  stiffness  of  his 
shirt-front  and  white  tie — he  was  not  only  awe- 
inspiring  by  reason  of  these  details — but  he  was 
in  addition  horrible  to  contemplate  by  reason  of 
his  immutability. 

There  were  certain  very  unpleasant  condi- 
tions attached  to  the  late  Mr.  Greville's  will, 
and  Docker  was  one  of  them.  Docker  was  like 
the  eternal  and  everlasting  Sphinx — he  could 
never  be  removed.  To  the  end  of  time  Clifford 
believed  that  he  would  continue  to  fis  those 


8  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

steel-gray  eyes  in  withering  contempt  upon  the 
young  master  whom  he  despised — or  whom,  by 
the  expression  of  those  stony  eyes,  he  appeared 
to  despise— and  nothing  apparently  save  death 
could  rid  his  victim  of  their  steadfast  gaze. 
Clifford  had  an  innate  conviction  that  Docker 
would  never  be  so  obliging  as  to  die.  He  must 
have  lived  for  generations  already — there 
seemed  no  reasonable  evidence  why  he  should 
not  continue  to  live  for  several  generations 
longer. 

Docker  stood  by  his  new  master's  side  with 
his  venerable  white  hair,  and  his  no  less  vener- 
able white  linen  choker;  he  offered  no  sugges- 
tions, he  evidently  experienced  no  sort  of  hu- 
man emotion,  neither  sympathy  nor  interest 
played  upon  his  expressionless  countenance; 
there  was  only  that  suspicion  of  contempt  in 
his  unfaltering  eyes,  and  a  certain  relentless 
undercurrent  of  stolid  determination. 

"I  can't — I  really  can't  go  on  living  by  my- 
self in  such  a  house!"  burst  with  something 
like  a  groan  from  the  poor  young  man's  lips,  as 
he  watched  the  mice  disappear  in  conjugal 
amity  beneath  the  ebony  sarcophagus  far 
away. 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  no  choice,  sir,"  replied 
Docker  with  perfect  politeness,  but  with  an  ex- 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  9 

asperating  finality,  "unless  indeed" — he  added 
significantly. 

"Why  in  the  world  did  the  old  boy  leave  it  to 
me  at  all  if  it  was  to  be  coupled  with  such  hate- 
ful and  detestable  conditions!"  cried  Clifford, 
rounding  almost  wildly  upon  his  butler,  and  in 
his  mind  he  added:  And  you — you  , James  Doc- 
ker, are  of  all  these  hateful  conditions  the  most 
unutterably  detestable !  "Why  did  he  tie  me 
up  in  this  ridiculous  and  childish  fashion?  why 
leave  me  the  place  at  all,  unless  I  could  do  as  I 
like  about  it?  Why,  I  ask  you?" 

"That  is  not  for  me  to  say,  sir,"  and  Docker 
spread  out  his  fat  white  hands  with  a  gesture  of 
deferential  negation  that  seemed  to  Clifford's 
heated  fancy  to  have  something  of  mockery 
about  it.  For  after  all,  Docker  must  have 
known !  Docker  could  not  have  lived  forty 
years — man  and  boy — in  the  late  Mr.  Greville's 
service  without  having  some  sort  of  idea  why, 
after  having  quarrelled  so  desperately  with  his 
only  sister  that  he  had  refused  to  go  and  see 
her  when  she  was  dying,  he  had  ended  by  leav- 
ing all  he  had  in  the  world  to  her  orphaned  son 
whom  he  had  never  set  eyes  upon.  Docker  too 
must  surely  have  known  why  this  munificent 
bequest,  which  might  have  been  due  to  the 
tardy  promptings  of  fraternal  affection  or  to  a 


io  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

sense  of  remorse  for  his  past  injustice  and 
harshness,  should  have  been  discounted  and 
robbed  of  half  its  generosity  by  the  irritating 
and  humiliating  conditions  by  which  the  old 
miser  had  seen  fit  to  encumber  his  heir. 

Briefly,  the  conditions  were  these: 

James  Docker  was  to  remain  in  Mark  Clif- 
ford's service  as  long  as  he  lived. 

Mark  Clifford  was  not  to  marry  until  the 
third  anniversary  of  his  uncle's  death  should 
have  elapsed. 

And  lastly,  and  this  seemed  to  the  unfortu- 
nate young  man  to  be  the  strangest  and  most  un- 
reasonable condition  of  all,  he  was  not  until  that 
same  third  anniversary  was  past,  to  leave  Essel- 
ton  Hall  for  longer  than  one  week  at  a  time 
upon  any  pretext  or  excuse  whatever. 

In  addition  to  these  requirements  he  was 
compelled  to  restore  and  redecorate  the  whole 
of  the  interior  of  the  house,  the  work  to  be 
commenced  not  later  than  three  months  after 
the  death  of  the  testator. 

In  order  that  these  conditions  might  be 
scrupulously  carried  out,  the  estate  had  been 
left  in  trust  to  three  executors,  who  all  three, 
or  any  one  of  them,  were  empowered  to  enforce 
certain  penalties  upon  the  legatee,  should  he 
fail  to  comply  with  the  terms  of  the  will. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  1 1 

These  penalties  were  of  an  exceedingly  strin- 
gent character.  If  Clifford  dismissed  James 
Docker  from  his  service,  the  sum  of  £20,000 
was  to  be  diverted  from  the  estate  and  paid  over 
to  a  second  cousin  of  Mr.  Greville's,  a  certain 
Charles  Greville,  or  failing  him,  to  his  eldest 
living  child. 

If  Clifford  absented  himself  from  Esselton 
Hall  for  twenty -four  hours  longer  than  the  pre- 
scribed week,  then  a  sum  of  £50,000  was  to  be 
given  to  the  same  person;  whilst  if  he  com- 
mitted the  dire  offense  of  matrimony  within 
the  forbidden  period,  Esselton  Hall  and  the 
whole  of  the  property  appertaining  to  it,  to- 
gether with  all  the  very  large  sums  of  money 
that  had  been  for  many  years  accumulating  in 
the  funds  and  other  securities,  were  to  pass 
completely  away  from  him,  also  to  the  benefit 
of  Charles  Greville  and  his  eldest  child,  whilst 
the  unfortunate  young  man  was  to  be  instantly 
reduced  to  a  small  legacy  of  £5,000,  and  would 
therefore  return  to  very  nearly  the  same 
poverty  from  which  his  uncle's  magnificent  be- 
quest had  so  lately  rescued  him. 

In  short,  by  the  terms  of  this  most  inexplica- 
ble will,  Mr.  Greville's  heir — who  was  twenty- 
five — was  compelled  to  reside  for  three  years 
in  solitary  bachelorhood  in  this  vast  and  gloomy 


12  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

mansion,  under  the  surveillance  of  a  peculiarly 
disagreeable  old  butler,  or  else  to  forfeit  his 
new-gotten  wealth  altogether. 

And  it  must  be  admitted  that  to  be  saddled 
with  Docker  seemed  to  him  at  first  to  be  the 
most  maddeningly  insupportable  condition  of 
all. 

He  supposed  grimly — and  there  is  no  reason 
to  believe  that  his  supposition  was  wrong — that 
Docker  had  been  left'as  a  watch-dog,  sort  of  spy 
set  upon  his  movements,  so  that  he  might  give 
timely  notice  to  the  executors  up  in  London  if 
he  attempted  in  any  way  to  elude  or  defeat  the 
conditions  of  the  will. 

Ai  the  first,  a  faint  hope  had  arisen  in  Clif- 
ford's mind  that  Docker  himself  might  decline 
the  position  thrust  upon  him.  What  if  the  old 
man  were  to  declare  himself,  of  his  own  free 
will,  desirous  of  resigning  his  onerous  position 
and  retiring  into  private  life?  Might  it  not  be 
possible  judiciously  to  pension  him  off? 

Clifford  actually  had  had  the  audacity  to  sug- 
gest this  to  his  new  butler. 

"You  have  worked  hard  all  your  life,  Docker; 
would  you  not  like  to  rest  a  little  in  your  old 
age?"  he  said  insinuatingly;  "there  can  surely 
be  a  cottage  found  for  you  on  the  estate,  a  nice, 
comfortable  littla  cottage,  Docker,  with  a  gar- 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  13 

den,  you  know,  and  a  tidy  maidservant  to  wait 
on  you;  I  would  see  that  you  had  every  com- 
fort." 

"You  are  forgetting  the  terms  of  your  uncle's 
will,  sir,"  broke  in  the  old  man  solemnly,  with 
a  look  of  stern  disapproval. 

"Oh!"  with  a  nervous  laugh,  "not  at  all, 
Docker,  not  at  all !  but  if  you  gave  me  warning 
it  would  not  be  the  same  as  if  I  sent  you  away 
—eh?  and  I  might  make  it  worth  your  while, 
and  we  might  just  settle  it  amicably  between 
us,  you  know?" 

"Mr.  Clifford,  sir,  I  beg  as  you  will  never  say 
such  a  thing  as  that  to  me  again!"  had  replied 
the  immaculate  Docker  indignantly.  "Your 
late  uncle,  sir,  have  in  his  goodness  left  me  a 
competence,  on  the  express  condition  that  I  re- 
mains as  butler  in  your  service  so  long  as  I 
lives,  the  which  on  his  death-bed  I  promised 
him  to  do.  'Tisn't  likely  as  I'm  going  to  be  a 
party  to  cheat  my  master  of  his  last  wishes; 
why,  'twouldn't  be  honest,  sir!  Not  all  the 
gold  of  India  nor  all  the  cottages  on  this  estate, 
Mr.  Clifford,  would  tempt  me  into  such  disre- 
spect to  his  memory !" 

Clifford  had  subsided.  He  had  made  his 
effort  for  freedom  and  had  failed  ignominously. 
Dooker  remained  master  of  the  situation. 


14  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

It  was  now  three  whole  months  since  the 
funeral,  and  Clifford  had  settled  himself  down 
at  Esselton,  and  he  would  have  been  very  glad 
to  have  been  allowed  to  go  on  quietly  from  day 
to  day  without  any  trouble.  He  had  retired  as 
usual  to-day  to  smoke  his  pipe  after  breakfast 
in  the  only  comfortable  and  habitable  sitting- 
room  in  the  house,  his  late  uncle's  study;  but 
when  on  this  particular  morning  he  was  pro- 
ceeding to  carry  out  his  modest  and  inoffensive 
programme  of  enjoyment,  Docker  had  intruded 
on  his  solitude  with  a  suggestion  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  be  escorted  over  the  whole  house,  as  it 
was  high  time  to  consider  the  subject  of  the  re- 
pairs and  renovations  that  must  now  be  imme- 
diately commenced,  in  accordance  with  the  late 
Mr.  Greville's  directions. 

"The  three  months  is  now  up,"  said  Docker 
ominously. 

Clifford  groaned  inwardly,  but  having  no 
decent  excuse  to  offer  he  submitted  to  what  was 
apparently  inevitable,  and  Docker  solemnly 
jingling  a  huge  bunch  of  keys,  led  the  way 
with  impressive  gravity  through  the  long  dis- 
mal passages  and  staircases  into  the  different 
apartments  of  the  house,  into  many  of  which 
he  had  never  yet  penetrated. 

Esselton  Kail  was  a  huge  square  white  block, 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  15 

adorned  at  its  entrance  by  a  colonnade  of  white 
pillars  forming  a  long,  solid  porch  across  the 
drive,  which  swept  under  its  shelter  up  to  the 
front  door,  after  a  fashion  which  has  now  gone 
out  of  date.  Architecturally,  there  was  no 
beauty  whatever  in  the  structure — the  walls 
were  stuccoed,  the  roof  was  of  gray  slate,  and 
presented  no  pleasing  irregularities  of  outline, 
and  the  long  straight  windows  ran  in  two  un- 
broken lines  round  all  four  sides  of  the  building. 

The  house  was  about  a  hundred  years  old, 
and  had  been  built  at  that  remarkable  period, 
when  art,  and  good  taste,  and  the  love  of  har- 
monious beauty  seem  to  have  been  conspicu- 
ously and  inexplicably  extinct  in  the  minds  of 
the  architects  of  this  country. 

The  men  who  built  those  great  bald  white 
country  houses — of  which  not  a  few  are  scat- 
tered up  and  down  the  face  of  our  England — 
appear  to  have  had  no  regard  for  anything  save 
size  and  squareness,  and  when  first  these  houses 
arose  amidst  the  green  fairness  of  their  sur- 
rounding parks  and  gardens,  they  must  have 
presented  a  most  painfully  hideous  appear- 
ance. 

Nevertheless,  Time— who  can  be  safely  trusted 
to  improve  and  ameliorate  the  very  worst  of 
human  structures — had  laid  a  softening  finger 


1 6  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

upon  the  once  aggressive  ugliness  of  Essleton 
Hall. 

In  places  the  weather  had  toned  down  the 
stucco  walls  into  shades  of  green  and  brown, 
whilst  jasmine  and  clustering  roses  had  flung  a 
veil  of  tender  greenery  across  the  bare  un- 
sightly surfaces;  and  in  summer  time  great 
bunches  of  cream  and  crimson  blossoms  would 
come  nodding  in  at  the  windows;  and  even  the 
gray  slates  on  the  roof  had  become  beautified 
by  patches  of  green  and  orange  lichens  which 
served  in  a  great  measure  to  obliterate  their 
crude  unloveliness. 

Inside,  the  condition  of  things  was  far  worse. 
For  two  generations  no  female  influence  had 
pervaded  the  house,  and  two-thirds  of  the 
rooms  had  been  entirely  shut  up  for  years.  Mr. 
Greville,  who  had  lived  and  died  a  bachelor, 
had  succeeded  an  uncle  who  had  also  never 
married.  It  was,  therefore,  a  singular  coinci- 
dence that  now  for  the  third  time,  Esselton  Hall 
should  descend,  not  from  father  to  son,  but 
from  uncle  to  nephew. 

The  late  owner  having  been  not  only  a 
bachelor  but  a  miser  as  well,  had  allowed  the 
house  to  fall  into  disrepair,  and  not  a  penny  had 
been  spent  upon  it  during  the  whole  time- 
nearly  fifty  years— of  his  ownership.  Seem- 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  17 

ingly,  at  the  end  of  his  life  he  had  wished  to 
atone  for  this  long  neglect,  hence  the  clause  in 
his  will  which  had  desired  his  heir  to  restore 
the  interior  of  the  house — a  task  which  possibly 
an  inborn  indolence  as  much  as  anything  else 
had  deterred  him  from  carrying  out  during  his 
own  lifetime. 

The  task  of  restoring  and  beautifying  the 
house,  which  with  all  its  faults  was  a  comforta- 
ble and  roomy  one,  and  presented  great  capa- 
bilities to  an  artistic  mind,  would  to  a  good 
many  persons  have  been  a  congenial  one.  But 
Mark  Clifford  was  not  one  of  these  persons. 

The  whole  subject  of  high  art  decoration  was 
an  unknown  country  to  him.  He  had  no  views 
with  regard  to  the  dado  versus  the  frieze,  no 
ideas  upon  wall  papers,  no  inspirations  with  re- 
spect to  styles  and  periods.  His  only  idea  was 
to  take  somebody  else's  advice.  Whose  advice 
could  he  take?  Not  Docker's,  surely!  his 
whole  inner  man  rebelled,  his  very  gorge  rose 
at  the  mere  thought  of  appealing  to  Docker  lor 
advice.  Yet  if  not  Docker,  who  then? 

Docker  was  here  on  the  spot,  ever  present, 
ever  ready ;  permeating  the  very  atmosphere  as 
it  were,  with  his  bland  and  offensive  sugges- 
tions and  his  no  less  offensive  limitations  and 
delineations  of  duty.  Clifford  was  well  aware 


1 8  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

that  Docker  asked  nothing  better  than  to  be 
given  carte  blanche  to  undertake  the  whole 
business.  He  wondered  if  he  should  be  driven 
to  this  in  the  end,  out  of  sheer  desperation?  It 
would  save  him  a  world  of  trouble  and  bother, 
no  doubt,  but  no!  he  thought  that  he  could  not, 
would  not,  bring  himself  to  plant  the  hated 
Docker's  foot  so  heavily  as  this  upon  his  own 
neck! — he  would  not  fall  so  low  yet,  he  would 
make  a  fight  for  his  freedom  first!  even  if  he 
should  have  to  come  to  it  in  time;  and  with  the 
possibility  he  shuddered  anew.  We  none  of  us 
know  what  we  may  have  to  come  to  in  this 
world ! 

He  walked  across  to  the  one  tall  dust-bp- 
grimed  window  which  Docker  had  unshuttered, 
iind  stood  with  his  back  to  the  room  and  to  his 
detested  butler,  staring  gloomily  out  upon  the 
winter  landscape  with  his  hands  thrust  deep 
<]own  into  his  trousers  pockets. 

An  Italian  garden  lay  in  front  of  him.  The 
formal  tile-edged  flower-beds  were  mapped  out 
into  hideous  symmetrical  patterns,  and  were 
now  nothing  but  bare  squares  and  lozenges  of 
earth,  like  new-made  graves.  Out  of  them 
sprouted  at  intervals  about  a  dozen  broken  and 
blackened  stone  statues  of  heathen  gods  and 
goddesses,  nymphs  and  satyrs,  amongst  whom 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  19 

there  was  a  paucity  of  legs  and  arms,  and  an 
almost  entire  destitution  of  noses.  Beyond 
this  cheerful  parterre  was  a  sunk  fence,  and  then 
the  park,  dotted  over  with  fine  trees  and  with  a 
boundary  of  low  wood-clad  hills.  Three  roads 
converging  towards  the  house  approached  it 
from  divergent  directions,  lying  white  and  level 
upon  the  carpet  of  green  turf  which  "they  inter- 
sected ;  and  as  Mr.  Clifford  stood  looking  help- 
lessly, and  almost  hopelessly,  out  over  his  new 
domain,  three  black  specks  detached  them- 
selves almost  simultaneously  from  the  dark 
background  of  the  woods  at  the  far  end  of  the 
three  roads,  and  advanced  swiftly  and  steadily 
along  the  ribbon-like  lines  towards  the  house. 

"If  I  might  make  so  bold  as  to  suggest,  Mr. 
Clifford,"  said  at  this  moment  the  voice  of 
Docker  behind  him,  "there's  my  cousin,  Mr. 
George  Jones,  at  Oldcastle,  as  would  be  most 
happy  to  undertake  the  paperin'  and  paintin' 
and  such  like  of  the  house  for  you.  A  builder 
and  contractor,  to  say  nothing  of  being  glazier, 
plumber  and  carpenter  as  well,  is  Jones,  and  as 
honest  a  man  as  you  could  find  to  do  your  work, 
sir;  he'd  wait  on  you  with  pleasure  at  any  hour 
convenient.  I'll  send  the  groom  into  Oldcastle 
to  request  him  to  coine  up  and  speak  to  you, 
sir,  if " 


2O  1  he  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Hush,"  interrupted  Mr.  Clifford  sharply,  as 
he  pointed  a  long  tapering  finger  out  towards 
the  home  park.  "What  are  these — advancing — 
things?" 

Docker  approached,  looked  out  of  the  window 
and  sniffed.  A  sniff  of  scorn,  not  unmingled 
with  baffled  rage. 

"Them?— oh,  them  be  wo— ladies  a-ridin'  on 
bicycles,  Mr.  Clifford,  and,"  he  added  in  the 
depths  of  his  disgusted  heart,  "they  be  a  corn- 
in*  and  a  pokin'  their  noses  in  here,  where 
they're  not  a-wanted!" 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  21 


CHAPTER  II. 

NORA  BEUHEN  was  the  first  to  arrive,  as  was 
only  to  be  expected,  seeing  that  she  was  excel- 
lently mounted  on  a  brand-new  high-grade 
Swift  machine,  highly  geared  and  furnished 
with  all  the  very  latest  improvements— the 
very  swiftest  of  all  Swifts,  in  fact. 

As  she  shot  out  of  the  shelter  of  the  woods 
she  cast  a  quick  glance  to  the  right  and  left  of 
her,  and  then  she  also  sniffed,  as  Docker  had 
sniffed,  a  sniff  full  of  scorn  and  jealousy,  and 
flavored  with  the  very  gall  of  bitterness. 

"Here  they  come!"  she  muttered. 

"Just  what  I  expected!  CATS!"  and  then  she 
put  the  pace  on,  and  simply  flew  down  the  gen- 
tle slope.  "I'll  get  there  first,  any  way!"  she 
said  to  herself.  "I  wonder  how  they  have  the 
face  to  do  it!  That  brazen-faced  old  harridan 
on  her  lumbering  tricycle,  anybody  can  tell 
what  her  motives  must  be,  with  those  gawky 
girls  of  hers  on  her  hands !  and  that  Miss  Ashley, 
too!  with  an  eye  to  business,  of  course!  rapa- 
cious pig!  Well,  nobody  can  accuse  me  of  in- 


22  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

terested  motives,  that's  certain!  I  am  on  a  mis- 
sion of  pure  philanthropy!" 

She  alighted  under  the  white  stone  pillared 
porch,  and  as  she  jumped  lightly  and  gracefully 
from  her  cycle,  she  did  so  with  the  pleased  con- 
sciousness that  a  pale-complexioned  young  man 
with  dark  eyes  was  observing  her  from  behind 
the  dusty  panes  of  an  adjacent  window. 

"That's  him,"  said  Mrs.  Bruhen  to  herself, 
with  ungrammatic  terseness,  pretending  not  to 
look  that  way.  She  shook  out  the  folds  of  her 
neat  tailor-made  dress,  touched  with  light  fin- 
gers first  the  fringe  in  front  and  then  the  shin- 
ing knob  of  pale  brown  hair  at  the  back  of  her 
head,  then  pulled  the  bell -handle  with  a  firm 
and  decided  jerk.  She  was  conscious  of  look- 
ing quite  her  best  in  her  cycling  get-up,  and 
she  experienced  a  glow  of  inward  satisfaction 
that  her  swift  and  graceful  approach  had  been 
observe,  by  the  master  of  the  house. 

**Women  who  have  tall,  slight  figures  always 
make  a  good  effect  on  a  bike,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, as  she  followed  the  footman  across  the 
wide  stone-flagged  floor  of  the  hall.  "Five  min- 
utes to  the  good,  I  should  say,"  she  added,  with 
a  triumphant  glance  back  towards  the  open  hall 
door,  whence  her  two  rivals  could  be  seen  still 
struggling  in  the  middle  distance. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  23 

She  met  her  host  with  two  outstretched  hands 
neatly  gloved  in  tan-colored  doeskin. 

"Dear  Mr.  Clifford,  I  felt  I  must  run  over  and 
see  you,  as  we  heard  you  were  settled  down 
now.  I  m  not  in  the  least  bit  conventional,  you 
know;  my  name  is  Nora  Bruhen ;  I'll  drop  my 
husband's  pasteboard  in  the  hall  as  I  go  out, 
and  then  it  will  be  all  right.  We  want  to  be 
neighborly,  Fred  and  I.  We  aren't  stiff  and 
stuck-up  like  some  of  the  people  down  here, 
and  I  am  so  sorry  for  you,  Mr.  Clifford !" 

"I  am  sure  you  are  very  kind,"  murmured 
Clifford  gratefully,  though  he  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  what  this  tall  blonde  woman 
with  the  elegant  figure  and  rather  long  nose 
was  driving  at,  or  why  she  was  sorry  for  him. 
Was  it  on  account  of  Docker,  perchance?  If  so, 
he  could  certainly  appreciate  her  sympathy. 

"Only  this  morning,"  went  on  his  visitor 
rapidly,  "Fred — that's  my  old  husband — said  to 
me,  'Don't  stand  on  ceremony,  Nora;  it's  high 
time  we  should  look  that  poor  young  man  up. 
Go  over  and  see  him,  and  tell  him  we  are  his 
friends,  his  true  friends,  and  that  we  welcome 
him  to  Middleshire;' so  I  just  hopped  on  the 
bike,  you  see,  and  here  I  am!" 

"You  are  very  kind,"  again  murmured  Clif- 
ford somewhat  confusedly,  for  he  was  quite 


24  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

unused  to  ladies'  society  and  felt  a  little  bewil- 
dered. 

"You  see  I  was  determined  to  be  the  first,  the 
very  first,"  continued  Mrs.  Bruhen;  "there 
will  be  others" — at  this  moment  the  hall  door- 
bell rang  loudly ;  she  frowned— "several  others, 
I  make  no  doubt,  but  always  remember  that  I 
was  the  first,  and  that  nobody  can  impugn  my 
motives,  whatever  may  be  said  of  other  peo- 
ple's; and  if  there  is  any  thing  on  earth  I  can  do 
to  help  you  in  your  lonely,  solitary  lifo,  bear  in 
mind  always  that  there  is  nobody  to  whom  you 
may  more  safely  turn  for  assistance  and  sym- 
pathy— er— ahem" — the  words  rapidly  jumbled 
themselves  up  together  and  epded  in  a  cough, 
as  the  footman  threw  open  the  door  and  an- 
nounced loudly: 

"Mrs.  Hommaney." 

A  stout  lady  in  a  very  short  black  skirt,  a 
felt  hat  with  a  draggled  ostrich  feather,  pushed 
far  back  from  her  fringeless  forehead,  and  a 
very  red  face,  came  puffing  and  panting  into  the 
room.  She  also  stretched  forth  two  hands,  in 
very  dirty  gardening  gloves,  towards  him  and 
fell  upon  him  with  a  torrent  of  breathless 
words : 

"You  poor  dear  boy!  left  all  by  yourself  in 
this  dreadful  place!  I  felt  I  must  fly  over  to 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  25 

give  you  a  greeting  as  soon  as  we  heard  that 
you  were  settled  down.  I  knew  your  uncle 
well,  and  I've  come,  my  dear  Mr.  Clifford,  to  be 
a  mother  to  you,  a  mother,  my  dear  boy,  and  I 
know  what  it  is  to  have  a  mother's  heart,  I  can 
tell  you!" 

"Scarcely  wonderful,  with  eight  children,  is 
it?"  murmured  Mrs.  Bruhen  softly. 

Mrs.  Ommaney  turned  sharply  round. 

"Oh— you,  Mrs.  Bruhen!  I  thought  I  de- 
scried somebody  scorching  with  all  her  might 
on  the  right-hand  drive.  I  might  have  guessed 
it  would  be  you." 

"You  would  have  guessed  rightly,  dear  Mrs. 
Ommaney,"  replied  the  lady,  with  a  suspicious 
sweetness  of  manner,  "but  for  all  my  scorching 
I  seem  to  have  come  in  cooler  than  you  are.  Do 
sit  down ;  how  terribly  hot  that  heavy  old  tri- 
cycle makes  you — why  don't  you  buy  some- 
thing lighter  and  swifter?  It  can't  be  good  for 
the  heart  to  work  so  hard !" 

Mrs.  Ommaney  glared,  but  disdained  to  reply. 
She  took  her  enemy's  advice,  however,  and 
sank  down  upon  a  chair  still  breathless  from 
her  recent  exertions. 

Clifford  was  heard  once  more  to  murmur, 
"Very  kind,"  and  then  as  an  after-thought,  he 
added  that  he  was  motherless  for  the  moment. 


26  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"I  will  be  a  moth — "  began  Mrs.  Ommaney 
anew,  but  at  that  moment  the  door-bell  rang 
for  the  third  time,  and  the  two  ladies  exchanged 
glances.  A  common  danger  drew  them  nearer 
to  one  another. 

"It's  that  Ashley  creature!"  murmured  Mrs. 
Bruhen  below  her  breath.  "I  knew  she 
wouldn't  be  long  in  putting  in  an  appearance 
here!  it's  a  case  of  'where  the  carcass  is,  there 
will  be  the  vulture'!  ' 

"Who  is  it?"  inquired  the  host;  "she  doesn't 
look  much  like  a  vulture,"  he  added. 

"Ah,  you  mustn't  judge  by  appearances,  dear 
Mr.  Clifford!  it's  not  the  outside  of  the  platter 
that  matters,  it's  the  heart." 

"And  this  lady's  heart  is  like  a  vulture's? 
How  curious!" 
"Hush-sh— here  she  comes." 
And  Miss  Ashley  was  announced.  She  was 
a  little  woman,  with  sharp  eyes  and  a  beak-like 
nose.  She  cast  a  rapid  glance  to  the  right  and 
left  of  her  as  she  entered,  as  though  to  take  in 
the  strength  of  tho  forces  already  arrayed 
against  her,  then  she  tripped  forward  with 
black  suede  outstretched  hands  towards  Clif- 
ford. 

"I  heard  you  had  come  down  for  good  this 
time,  Mr.  Clifford,  so  I  have  come  over  at  once 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  27 

to  see  if  I  can  be  of  any  use  to  you.  Ah !  Mrs. 
Oramaney,  you  here?  Why,  you  haven't 
brought  Miss  Maud!  she,  of  course,  might  have 
done  something  for  Mr.  Clifford!  and  Mrs. 
Bruhen,  too!  who  would  have  thought  of  seeing 
you  here,  of  all  people!" 

"My  motives  are  entirely  disinterested  ones, 
Miss  Ashley!"  replied  Mrs.  Bruhen,  darkly. 

"Won't  you  be  seated,  ladies?"  murmured 
Clifford,  who  was  vaguely  aware  that  there  was 
thunder  in  the  air,  although  he  could  not  imag- 
ine why  these  ladies  had  come  here  to  quarrel 
with  each  other,  nor  indeed  had  he  the  faintest 
idea  why  they  had  come  at  all.  Nevertheless, 
he  said  politely  that  he  was  glad  to  see  them, 
and  thanked  them  very  much  for  their  visit. 
And  secretly  he  wondered  what  on  earth  they 
wanted. 

He  was  soon  to  be  enlightened. 

Mrs.  Ommaney  took  the  initiative. 

"So  we  understand  that  you  have  got  to  do 
up  this  dear  old  house,  Mr.  Clifford.  What  a 
dreadful  responsibilty  for  a  poor  solitary 
bachelor!"  and  up  went  the  dirty  garden-gloves 
in  a  gesture  of  sympathy. 

"On  the  contrary,"  cried  Mrs.  Bruhen, 
briskly,  "it  will  be  a  most  delightful  and  ab- 
sorbing occupation  for  Mr.  Clifford," 


28  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"That  all  depends  on  whether  Mr.  Clifford 
gets  the  right  people  to  advise  him  about  it," 
remarked  Miss  Ashley  dryly,  and  then  it 
seemed  to  Clifford's  fevered  imagination  that  in 
the  moment  of  silence  that  followed,  the  three 
ladies  glared  at  one  another  savagely. 

"Exactly  so,"  said  Mrs.  Ommaney,  with  a 
fierce  nod;  "and  that  is  why  I  am  going  to  try 
and  persuade  Mr.  Clifford  to  come  back  and 
lunch  with  me,  BO  that  he  may  talk  to  my 
Maud  about  it." 

Hereupon  Mrs.  Bruhen  and  Miss  Ashley  ex- 
changer! glances  of  scornful  amusement,  and 
went  away  whispering  together  into  one  of  the 
windows. 

Mrs.  Ommaney  was  not  slow  in  seizing  her 
opportunity.  "My  Maud,"  she  said  in  a  low- 
ered voice  to  Clifford — "that's  my  eldest  girl — 
has  a  positive  genius  for  decorating  houses. 
She  will  love  to  arrange  and  settle  everything  for 
you — papers,  dadoes,  ceilings,  carved  over-man- 
tels and  encaustic-tile  fireplaces;  you  can 
leave  it  all  safely  to  her — she  will  manage 
everything  for  you!" 

"Indeed?"  said  Clifford,  a  little  doubtfully; 
"that  will  be  very  kind  of  her." 

"Only,  of  course,  you  must  talk  it  over  with 
her,  and  go  into  it  together.  She  would  not 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  29 

dream  of  settling  things  without  your  authority. 
That's  why  I  want  you  to  come  back  and  lunch. 
Will  you?" 

Clifford  thought  of  lunch  alone — lunch  with 
Docker  behind  his  chair — to  escape  even  for  one 
hour  from  Docker  was  a  gain.  He  accepted 
the  invitation.  No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than 
ho  was  accosted  by  Mrs.  Bruhen. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Clifford,  I'm  going  up  to 
town  to-morrow,  and  I  want  you  to  come  up 
with  me.  I— will  take  you  round  to  all  the 
best  art  decorators,  and  I  will  help  you  to 
choose  all  the  papers  and  dadoes,  you  know — I'll 
tell  you  what  to  get.  I've  moved  house  twice 
in  the  last  two  years,  and  I  understand  a  lot 
about  doing  up  houses,  and  everybody  says  my 
taste  is  excellent.  We  could  go  up  by  the  ten 
o'clock  train,  and  we  could  lunch  somewhere 
you  know  —  perhaps  you  would  give  me 
lunch?" 

"Oh,  certainly,  with  the  greatest  pleasure, 
anywhere  you  like,"  said  Clifford,  politely. 

"Thanks,  we'll  say  the  Savoy,  then.  That 
will  be  handy  for  the  Strand  shops." 

"Don't  you  be  in  such  a  hurry,"  broke  in 
Miss  Ashley,  earnestly;  "don't  take  anybody's 
advice  till  you  have  looked  round  for  yourself, 
Mr.  Clifford !  I  ought  to  know— better  far  than 


3O  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

these  two  ladies — for  I  am  a  painter,  paperer, 
furnisher  and  decorator  myself." 

Clifford  gasped. 

"Yes,  don't  look  so  astonished.  In  these 
hard  times,  you  know,  we  poor  lonely  women 
have  to  put  our  shoulders  to  the  wheel  and 
work,  and  so,  as  I  was  always  very  clever  at 
that  kind  of  thing,  I  determined  when  my  dear 
parents  died,  to  start  professionally  in  that  lino. 
I  have  a  shop  full  of  beautiful  things  at  Old- 
castle." 

"Indeed?  and  do  you  make  it  pay?" 

"Oh,  excellently  well;  you  see  I  am  a  thor- 
ough woman  of  business." 

"You  don't  look  it." 

"No?  that's  what  people  tell  me.  But  be- 
cause one  runs  a  business  I  don't  see  why  one 
need  look  a  fright,  do  you?" 

"I  am  sure  you  could  never  be  a  fright,"  said 
Clifford,  politely. 

"How  sweet  of  you  to  say  that!  then  you  will 
come  and  lunch  with  me  and  talk  it  over?" 

Clifford  glanced  towards  Mrs.  Ommaney. 

"Not  to-day,  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  lowering 
his  voice. 

"Ah!  the  universal  mother  has  claimed  you, 
I  see!"  she  whispered  back.  "You  will  be  in- 
troduced to  'my  Maud.'  Don't  be  taken  in  by 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  31 

her;  she  has  the  worst  taste  possible!    Well, 
come  to-morrow,  then?" 

"I  am  very  sorry,  but  to-morrow,  you  see,  I 
am  also  unfortunately  engaged." 

"To  Mrs.  Bruhen,  of  course!  she  won't  stand 
you  lunch,  I  expect!  you'll  have  to  treat  her! 
That's  her  little  playful  dodge;  she  is  as  mean 
as  you  make  'em,  is  Nora  Bruhen!" 

Clifford  reddened.  "Oh,  I  assure  you  I 
offered " 

"Yes,  she's  clever  at  getting  offers.  Now  I 
invite  you  to  lunch  with  me.  I  have  a  tiny  ivy- 
covered  cottage  where  I  live  with  my  assistant 
and  my  maid ;  it  adjoins  my  shop  in  Oldcastle 
High  Street.  It  is  only  a  little  humble  four- 
roomed  cottage,  but  I  will  give  you  the  very  best 
of  welcomes  at  it,  arid  the  fare — if  simple— 

"Audacious  creature!"  fiercely  muttered 
Mrs.  Ommaney,  who  had  overheard  the  last 
words. 

"For  an  unmarried  woman,  Miss  Ashley," 
ohe  went  on  aloud,  "you  certainly  sail  very 
near  the  wind  in  giving  invitations  to  tete-a- 
tete  meals  to  bachelors !  In,  my  young  days, 
before  I  married  Mr.  Ommaney " 

"Oh,  that  was  so  very  long  ago,  dear  Mrs. 
Ommaney !"  replied  Miss  Ashley  sweetly ;  "and 
besides,  Mr.  Clifford  need  not  come  at  all  if  he 


32  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

does  not  think  it  would  be  quite  correct. 
Neither,  of  course,  need  he  go  up  to  town  with 
Mrs.  Bruhen;  some  people  would  not  think  that 
correct  either!  perhaps,  dear  Mrs.  Brunen,  if 
you  were  to  ask  Mr.  Bruhen 

"Impertinent  creature!  how  dare  you  speak 
like  that  to  me.  My  motives  are  above  sus- 
picion; yours,  unfortunately— 

"Ladies!  ladies!"  cried  Clifford  helplessly. 

"This  is  positively  disgraceful!"  interpolated 
tho  heavy  voice  of  Mrs.  Ommaney.  "What 
will  Mr.  Clifford  think  of  you  both." 

Then  immediately  the  other  two  rounded 
upon  her. 

"Oh!  I  am  sure  you  needn't  preach,  Mrs. 
Ommaney,  when  everybody  knows  what  your 
object  is!"  said  Nora  Bruhen. 

"And  fancy  talking  about  Maud's  taste!" 
cried  Miss  Ashley;  "why,  everything  she 
can  possibly  know  she  has  picked  up  from 
me!" 

Clifford  felt  his  brain  giving  way,  and  at  that 
moment,  as  though  to  complete  his  despair, 
Docker  opened  the  door. 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  when  you  are  disen- 
gaged- 

"Don't  you  see  that  I  am  not  disengaged,  my 
good  man!" 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  33 

But  Docker  stood  firm  and  immovable,  he  had 
no  intention  of  going  away. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  Who  is  it?  What  on 
earth  do  you  want?  Can't  you  speak?  cried 
Clifford  irritably. 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Clifford,  I  am  waitin'  on  pur- 
pose for  to  speak.  There  is  some  one  wishes  to 
see  you." 

"Who  is  it?" 

"That  there  Mr.  George  Jones  as  I  told  you 
about,  has  just  called  round." 

"Your  cousin,  you  mean?" 

"He  do  happen  to  be  my  cousin,"  replied 
Docker  with  much  dignity,  <rbut  it's  not  by  rea- 
son of  that,  sir;  it  is  that  having  heard  an  you 
was  lookin'  out  for  a  decorator,  contractor, 
plumber  and  carpenter  to  restore  this  house 
accordin',  I  may  add,  to  your  uncle's  will,  as 
others  no  doubt  have  heard  also,"  added 
Docker,  glancing  significantly  and  viciously  at 
the  feminine  intruders,  "George  Jones,  as  hon- 
est a  man  as  any  man  on  earth — have  called  to 
proffer  his  services." 

"Tell  him  to  go  to  the  devil." 

"He  will  not  do  that,  sir,  until  he  has  spoken 
to  you." 

"Ask  him  to  wait,  then,"  amended  Clifford 
with  lamentable  weakness. 


34  f  he  Craze  tff  Christina. 

Docker  bowed  and  retired. 

The  three  ladies  wore  looking  at  one  another 
with  scared  faces.  A  common  danger  drew 
them  together  and  made  them  once  more  forget 
their  differences. 

"George  Jones!"  the  mystic  name  was 
broathed  from  one  to  the  other  in  tones  of  hor- 
ror and  dismay. 

"An  ignorant  blunderer!" 

"A  common  day-laborer!" 

"A  mere  glazier  and  plumber!" 

"Oh,  dear,  dear  Mr.  Clifford!  pray  have 
nothing  to  do  with  such  a  man!  you  would  be 
fleeced,  robbed,  ruined!  and  your  beautiful 
house  would  be  utterly  spoiled!" 

"Take  my  Maud's  advice." 

"Come  up  to  town  with  me." 

"Let  us  have  a  quiet  talk  together  at  my  little 
cottage." 

The  unfortunate  young  man  dropped  his  head 
in  his  hands,  and  grabbed  at  his  hair  wildly. 
How  was  he,  inexperienced  and  helpless,  to 
steer  his  way  amongst  this  multitude  of  con- 
flicting counselors!  oh!  why  was  he  doomed 
.to  do  up  a  house  at  all !  A  great  mountain  of  a 
house,  full  of  mice  and  mouldering  curtains— a 
house  he  positively  loathed  and  hated!  Ho 
groaned  aloud 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  35 

The  ladies  pressed  around  him — they  purred, 
they  cooed,  they  coaxed,  and  now  and  again 
they  stopped  all  three  processes  in  order  (meta- 
phorically speaking)  to  spit  at  one  another. 

The  wretched  man  laid  his  head  on  the  table 
and  simulated  despair,  for  he  felt  that  if  he  did 
not  get  rid  of  them  he  should  do  something  des- 
perate. His  distress  only  made  matters  worse. 
Mrs.  Bruhen  stroked  his  hair  with  gentle,  doe- 
skin fingers;  Miss  Ashley  caught  at  his  hand 
and  clenched  it  tightly  between  her  own  hot 
black  suedes;  but  the  climax  came  when  Mrs. 
Ommaney  with  a  gigantic  heave  lifted  his  head 
on  to  her  ample  bosom  and  held  it  tightly  there 
with  her  grimy  garden-gloves. 

"Poor,  dear  boy,  let  me  comfort  you!"  she 
murmured,  "let  me  be  your  support;  I  am  a 
mother,  and  I  can  feel  for  you  as  only  a  mother 
can,  my  dear!" 

At  that  he  sprang  to  his  feet  in  a  paroxysm 
of  madness,  scattering  the  hostile  forces  to  the 
right  and  left  of  him. 

"Oh!  go, go, go!" he  shouted  wildly.  "What 
have  I  ever  done  that  I  should  be  so  tortured 
and  persecuted !  Leave  me  in  peace,  all  of  you ; 
I  don't  want  any  of  you;  I  won't  eat  lunches 
with  you,  I  won't  give  you  lunches;  I  don't 
want  your  Mauds,  or  your  wall  papers,  or  your 


36  The  Craze  of  Christina, 

ivy-covered  cottages,  I  only  want  to  be  left  in 
peace.  Oh,  leave  me!  leave  me!" 

And  here,  once  more  the  door  opened,  and 
Docker  reappeared. 

"Am  sorry  to  trouble  you  again,  sir,  but  Mr. 
George  Jones  says,  as  how  his  time  is  val'yble 
and  he  can't  wait  no  longer,  so  I  make  so  bold 
as  to  bring  him  in."  And  forthwith  he  ushered 
George  Jones  into  the  room. 

Thereupon  the  three  ladies  rose  with  one  ac- 
cord and  fled  precipitately,  and  a  few  seconds 
later,  three  lessening  specks  were  to  be  seen  dis- 
appearing rapidly  along  the  three  several  roads 
by  which  they  had  arrived. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  37 


CHAPTER  III. 

THERE  can  be  no  doubt  at  all  that  Docker  had 
triumphed  all  along  the  line. 

He  had  routed  the  hostile  feminine  forces 
with  ignominy,  and  he  had  brought  in  his  own 
candidate  with  glory;  for  within  a  week  George 
Jones  and  his  army  of  plasterers,  plumbers  and 
paperers  were  well  established  within  the  four 
walls  of  Esselton  Hall. 

Now  there  is  nothing  to  be  said  against  George 
Jones,  nothing  whatever;  he  was  honest  in  his 
dealings  and  moderate  in  his  charges,  or  at  any 
rate  he  was  as  honest  and  as  moderate  as  it  is  in 
the  nature  of  a  country  contractor  and  decorator 
to  be;  neither  were  the  men  in  his  employ  stu- 
pider, or  more  dilatory  than  is  the  average 
British  workman,  wheresoever  you  may  find 
him.  George  Jones  himself  was  civil  and  oblig- 
ing enough,  all  he  demanded  was  to  do  things  in 
his  own  way;  it  was  a  very  slow  way,  but  it  was 
the  way  in  which  he  had  done  things  always, 
ever  since  he  had  been  of  an  age  to  do  things  at 
all.  He  had  not,  moreover,  an  atom  of  taste,  or 


38  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

of  originality,  or  of  artistic  perception,  but  that 
perhaps  did  not  signify  very  much  to  his  client, 
whose  ideas  on  this  important  subject  were,  as 
I  have  pointed  out,  extremely  crude  and  un- 
formed. All  Mark  Clifford  wanted,  in  fact,  was 
to  be  saved  trouble,  and  if  possible,  to  be 
allowed  to  enjoy  himself.  George  Jones  en- 
abled him  to  do  the  former,  although  no  human 
agency  apparently  could  assist  him  in  encom- 
passing the  latter. 

When  George  Jones  brought  him  some  wall 
papers  of  hideous  design  and  color,  and  assured 
him  these  were  the  very  best  and  most  beauti- 
ful articles  to  be  had  in  the  market,  he  agreed 
to  them  at  once,  and  told  him  to  do  just  as  he 
liked  in  the  matter;  and  George  Jones,  who 
happened  to  have  a  large  quantity  of  these  per- 
fectly unsalable  wall  papers  stored  away  in  his 
back  shop,  saw  his  way  to  doing  a  very  good 
stroke  of  business,  by  using  them  up  at  Essel- 
ton  Hall.  But  if  he  had  been  uncomfortable 
before  the  advent  of  George  Jones,  Mark  Clif- 
ford was  fifty  times  more  uncomfortable  now 
that  the  house  was  crammed  from  attic  to  cellar 
with  that  gentleman's  myrmidons.  He  was 
driven  from  attic  to  basement,  from  room  to 
room.  Wherever  he  went  he  tumbled  over 
pails  and  paint-pots,  and  splashes  of  whitewash 


1  he  Craze  of  Christina.  39 

dropped  down   unawares    upon   his  garments 
from  the  ceilings  over  his  head. 

And  for  longer  than  a  week  the  unhappy 
young  man  could  not,  by  the  terms  of  that  hate- 
ful will,  absent  himself  from  his  own  house  so 
as  to  get  away  from  all  this  discomfort.  Never- 
theless, for  that  prescribed  week  he  did  run  up 
to  London,  after  he  had  endured  three  weeks  of 
Docker  and  of  George  Jones,  and  there  did  his 
best  to  forget  the  drawbacks  of  his  lot,  and  to 
remember  that  after  all  he  was  a  rich  man.  But 
London  was  unknown  ground  to  him  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  wealthy  idler,  and  however 
rich  a  man  may  be,  he  cannot  enjoy  his  riches 
alone.  He  knew  nobody,  the  streets  were  full 
of  strange  faces,  and  he  had  been  far  too  poor 
in  the  old  days  to  belong  to  a  club.  He  amused 
himself,  indeed,  for  a  few  days  by  buying  all 
sorts  of  expensive  articles  at  fashionable  shops 
in  Bond  Street  and  Piccadilly,  whose  doors  he 
had  never  ventured  to  enter  before;  but  the 
joys  of  shopping  soon  palled  upon  him,  and 
after  he  had  been  to  a  few  theaters,  where  it 
was  a  novelty  to  him  to  sit  in  the  stalls  instead 
of  in  the  pit  or  upper  boxes,  and  had  sauntered 
into  the  principal  picture  galleries,  he  began  to 
feel  very  dull  and  lonely  in  London.  For  there 
is  no  one  so  desolate  as  the  unit  in  an  unknown 


4O  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

crowd.  It  was  really  because  he  longed  to  ex- 
change a  few  words  with  some  one  he  knew 
that  on  the  last  day  that  he  was  in  town  it  oc- 
curred to  him  to  invent  an  excuse  to  go  and  call 
upon  one  of  his  uncle's  three  executors,  a  Mr. 
David  Scrubb,  who  resided  in  a  large  house  in 
Russell  Square.  He  had  met  this  gentleman  at 
Mr.  Greville's  funeral,  and  had  had  some  cor- 
respondence with  him  on  business  since. 

He  sent  in  his  card.  Mr.  Scrubb  was  at  home 
and  would  see  him.  He  was  shown  into  a 
gloomy,  book-lined  library  on  the  ground  floor, 
where  Mr.  Scrubb,  an  elderly  little  man  with  a 
wrinkled  face  like  yellow  parchment,  rose  from 
his  writing-table  to  greet  him  as  he  entered. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Clifford!  delighted  to  see  you;  is 
there  anything  I  can  do  for  you?  Pray  sit 
down." 

Clifford  sank  into  tne  nearest  chair. 

"Mr.  Scrubb,  I  am  the  most  miserable  man 
on  earth!"  he  burst  forth  with  something  like  a 
groan. 

"My  dear  sir !  with  such  a  fortune  as  you  have 
inherited,  how  could  you  be  miserable?  why, 
you  positively  make  me  smile!"  and  indeed  an 
unwonted  grimace  did  steal  across  Mr.  Scrubb's 
withered,  mummy-like  countenance. 

"But  this  will,  Mr.  Scrubb!  these  dreadful 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  41 

conditions !  must  they  all  be  carried  out?  is  it 
impossible  to  evade  them?" 

Mr.  Scrubb  drew  himself  up,  and  the  crackled 
smile  became  promptly  extinguished. 

"It  is  not  to  me,  Mr.  Clifford,  that  you  ought 
to  come  with  such  a  question  as  that.  It  is  my 
duty  to  see  that  you  carry  out  the  conditions  of 
your  late  uncle's  testament,  not  to  suggest  an 
evasion  of  them." 

"But  consider  Docker,  Mr.  Scrubb;  I  beg  of 
you  to  consider  Docker!  What  would  you  do,  I 
ask  you,  if  you  had  a  Docker  constantly  at 
your  elbow?" 

Mr.  Scrubb  coughed  a  discreet  "ahem"  be- 
hind his  hand. 

"James  Docker  is  a  most  estimable  man,  Mr. 
Clifford.  My  late  lamented  friend,  your  uncle, 
had  a  very  high  regard  for  him ;  he  will  serve 
you  faithfully,  I  assure  you." 

"Then  I  may  not  go  away !  and  already  I  be- 
gin to  loathe  the  place.  The  loneliness  is  ap- 
palling, and  I  may  not  marry  for  three  years." 

"Tut,  tut,  my  dear  young  friend,  if  you  will 
allow  me  to  call  you  so,  really  these  are  scarcely 
genuine  grievances.  You  have  a  fine  house  and 
a  beautiful  estate ;  you  will  soon  have  plenty  of 
friends  about  you;  there  is  no  hardship  in 
your  living  constantly  at  Esselfcon  for  a  few 


42  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

years;  and  as  for  marriage,  why  you  are  very 
young  still,  and  have  plenty  of  time;  in  the 
choice  of  a  wife  it  is  always  better  to  be 
wary." 

"I  wish  to  heaven  my  uncle  had  never  made 
me  his  heir!" 

Thereupon  Mr.  Scrubb  looked  at  him  with 
sorrow  tempered  with  a  strong  disapproval. 

"That,  allow  me  to  remark,  Mr.  Clifford,  is  a 
most  improper,' and  I  may  add  a  most  ungrate- 
ful, speech;  it  is  in  fact  flying  in  the  face  of 
Providence!  However,  if  these  are  your  delib- 
erate sentiments,  the  remedy  lies  in  your  own 
hands.  You  can,  if  you  please,  break  the  condi- 
tions of  your  uncle's  will,  in  which  case  the 
heir  presumptive  will  be  the  gainer." 

There  was  a  moment  or  two  of  silence.  No 
doubt  Mark  Clifford  with  all  his  irritation  was 
scarcely  prepared  to  do  this. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said  presently,  in  a  quieter 
tone,  "that  is  really  what  I  came  to  you  to  find 
out.  Who  is  this  Australian  cousin?  what  re- 
lation is  he  to  me?  what  is  he  like?  has  he  a 
family?  and  above  all,  does  he  know  that  he 
has  the  reversion  of  my  uncle's  will?" 

Mr.  Scrubb  opened  a  drawer  in  his  writing- 
table  and  took  out  a  bundle  of  papers. 

"Your    curiosity  is    perfect] y   natural,  Mr. 


The  Craze  of  Christina,  43 

Clifford,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know  about 
him.  Mr.  Charles  Greville  is  the  son  of  a  certain 
Henry  Greville,  a  second  cousin  of  your  grand- 
father's, of  your  uncle's  father,  that  is.  Henry 
Greville  emigrated  to  Australia  as  a  young  man, 
and  married  and  died  there.  Charles  Greville 
is  his  eldest  son.  He  also  married  and  is  a 
widower;  he  resides  entirely  in  Australia;  he 
has  a  family,  two  daughters,  I  understand,  but 
no  son." 

"And  does  he  know?" 

"Yes,  certainly  he  knows;  he  was  informed 
by  his  own  solicitor  of  the  remote,  the  very  re- 
mote, I  may  say,  chances  in  his  favor  upon  the 
death  of  your  uncle." 

After  a  moment  of  thought  Clifford  asked : 

"Do  you  know  whether  this  Charles  Greville 
has  any  representative  in  England — any  one 
who  would  be  likely  to  report  upon  my  move- 
ments?" 

Mr.  Scrubb  smiled  his  crackled  smile  once 
more,  as  he  looked  up  at  his  interlocutor  over 
his  spectacles. 

"That  Mr.  Charles  Greville  is  in  communica- 
tion with  his  own  family  solicitors  is  certain. 
But  if  your  question  points  to  a  spy  upon  your 
movements,  well,  let  me  assure  you  there  can 
be  nothing  of  the  sort,  nor  is  there  any  occasion 


44  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

for  anything  of  the  sort,  because  in  the  improb- 
able event  of  your  failing  to  comply  with  the 
conditions  of  your  uncle's  will,  it  would  at  once 
become  my  duty,  and  that  of  my  fellow-ex- 
ecutors, to  communicate  the  fact  to  Mr.  Charles 
Greville's  solicitors  in  London,  whose  name 
and  address  are  in  my  possession." 

After  that  Mark  Clifford  went  his  way  out  of 
Mr.  David  Scrubb's  house  with  the  gloomy  con- 
viction that  he  had  not  a  friend  in  the  world! 
He  was  apparently  surrounded  by  enemies, 
and  Docker  was  specially  set  as  a  spy  upon 
him!  The  dead  had  played  him  a  cruel  and  in- 
human trick,  and  the  living  were  banded  to- 
gether to  persecute  and  stamp  upon  him. 

He  went  back  to  Esselton  the  next  day,  much 
depressed  in  spirits  and  not  in  the  least  re- 
freshed or  benefited  by  his  week's  change  in 
London. 

"What  have  I  done  to  be  so  saddled  and  ham- 
pered at  every  turn?"  he  asked  of  himself  in  his 
bitterness.  "How  am  I  to  live  out  these  three 
years  of  solitude  in  that  beastly  old  house?  and 
how  am  I  to  endure  the  society  of  that  diaboli- 
cal Docker  for  the  residue  of  his  earthly  exist- 
ence?" 

Now,  Clifford  was  scarcely  justified  in  muk- 
ing  use  of  these  violent  adjectives— Esselton 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  45 

Hall  was  by  no  means  "beastly";  it  was  a  very 
nice  house  indeed;  nor  was  Docker,  strictly 
speaking,  "diabolical";  he  was  on  the  contrary 
exceedingly  human. 

The  young  man  came  back  to  find  that  the 
works,  which  he  had  hoped  would  have  pro- 
gressed considerably  during  his  absence,  had 
on  the  contrary  apparently  come  to  a  complete 
standstill.  He  could  not  make  out  in  fact  that 
anything  had  been  done  at  all  during  his  ab- 
sence; George  Jones,  it  appeared,  had  been  up 
in  London  too,  "on  business,"  Docker  said — the 
foreman  had  been  ill,  some  of  the  carpenters 
had  been  called  away  to  another  job,  the  plas- 
terers had  been  on  strike — plasterers,  he  was 
given  to  understand,  were  rare  creatures,  and 
being  aware  of  their  intrinsic  value,  presumed 
upon  that  knowledge  to  "go  out"  frequently. 
Tho  paperers  had  consequently  been  at  a  stand- 
still, and  the  plumbers  who  alone  had  remained 
in  possession,  had  plumbed  so  infamously  that 
all  their  work  had  had  to  be  undone,  and  begun 
over  e gain. 

Clifford  came  to  the  conclusion  after  listening 
to  these  details,  that  to  go  away  during  the  res- 
toration of  the  house  was  evidently  not  a  pay- 
ing proceeding. 

For  the  tirst  time  as  he  sat  down  to  eat  MB 


46  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

solitary  dinner  that  evening,  with  Docker  and 
his  satellite-like  mutes  behind  his  chair,  the 
thought  came  to  him  that  he  had  been  a  fool  to 
repel  the  advances  of  those  three  amiable  ladies 
who  had  wheeled  down  his  avenues  to  welcome 
him  to  Middleshire.  Why  had  he  thrown  these 
would-be  friends  to  the  winds?  why  had  he 
flown  in  their  faces  by  rejecting  their  kindly 
counsels?  He  began  most  bitterly  to  regret 
even  the  "universal  mother,"  and  as  to  the 
lively  and  lunch-loving  Mrs.  Bruhen,  and  the 
hospitable  lady  decorator — why,  ho  felt  as  if  he 
would  give  worlds  to  avail  himself  now  of  their 
friendly  offers!  But  he  supposed  that  he  had 
offended  them  all  mortally,  and  that  they 
would  never  forgive  him  or  be  frieuds  any  more  \ 

You  see,  Clifford  was  so  very  ignorant  and 
stupid  as  to  forget  that  he  had  £8,000  a  year, 
and  that  there  was  never  a  woman  born  who 
could  be  cruel  and  implacable  for  any  length  of 
time  to  such  an  income  as  that! 

As  chance  would  have  it,  he  happened  to  be 
in  Oldcastle  on  the  following  morning,  lie  was 
walking  aimlessly  down  the  center  of  the  main 
street — pedestrians  in  country  towns  I  have  re- 
marked frequently  do  tramp  along  the  centers 
of  the  streets  instead  of  on  what  our  American 
cousins  call  the  "sidewalks  '-—when  suddenly 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  47 

his  eye  was  caught  by  a  curious  object  project- 
ing from  the  upper  story  of  a  low  building,  which 
dangled  forth  over  the  road  above  his  head. 

Clifford  stopped  short  to  investigate  this  ob- 
ject; he  found  that  it  was  a  bracket  of  wrought 
iron-work,  from  which  depended  a  white  painted 
shield  or  sign,  on  which  some  cabalistic  words 
in  old  English  characters  were  written  in  scar- 
let. After  some  difficulty  he  managed  to  de- 
cipher them: 

"Ye  signe  of  y  Antient  Manne." 

These  words  puzzled  him  extremely.  Why 
were  they  wrongly  spelt?  and  what  was  the 
meaning  of  "ye"?  Filled  with  curiosity,  he 
now  examined  the  building  behind  the  sign.  It 
ought,  of  course,  to  have  been  an  inn,  but  evi- 
dently it  was  nothing  of  the  kind ;  it  was  merely 
a  one-storied  ordinary  red  brick  house  with  a 
door  and  two  windows  on  the  ground  floor  and 
three  windows  above.  Between  the  upper  win- 
dows and  the  lower  ones,  on  the  flat  red  brick 
of  the  house,  ran  another  strange  and  curious 
legend  equally  badly  spelt: 

"YeoldeShoppeof  Arte." 

This  was  more  bewildering  still  to  Clifford's 
matter-of-fact  mind. 

"Why  do  they  spell  shop  like  that?"  he  mut- 
tered; "and  what  the  dickens  is  *ye*  ?" 


48  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Then  he  caught  sight  of  a  picturesque  ivy- 
covered  cottage  to  the  right  of  the  square  red 
brick  house,  and  he  remembered  Miss  Ashley  ! 

This  of  course  was  the  lady -decorator's  cot- 
tage and  shop  adjoining  each  other,  and  this, 
evidently,  was  the  curious  way  in  which  she 
proclaimed  her  trade  to  the  public. 

But  the  bad  spelling,  as  this  poor  ignorant 
young  man  called  it,  annoyed  him.  It  seemed 
to  him  to  be  very  uneducated  to  spell  shop  with 
two  p's  and  an  e,  and  man  with  two  n's!  Then 
the  thought  passed  through  his  mind  as  to 
whether  he  could  summon  up  the  courage  to 
knock  at  the  brass  knocker  on  the  door  of  the 
ivy-wreathed  cottage  and  to  inquire  whether 
Miss  Ashley  was  in. 

But  just  as  he  was  hesitating  and  debating  he 
happened  to  look  back  at  the  windows  on  the 
ground  floor  of  "Ye  Shoppe,"  and  there  to  his 
horror  he  perceived  a  face  full  of  amusement 
looking  out  upon  him  over  the  top  of  the  "art 
muslin"  blind. 

The  face  was  not  Miss  Ashley's  at  all.  It 
was  a  young  face,  and  it  was  a  lovely  face. 
Deep  hazel  eyes,  h&ir  so  dark  as  to  be  almost 
black,  growing  in  wavy  strands  low  over  a  brow 
as  white  as  milk,  a  short,  straight,  impudent 
little  nose,  full  lipn  of  crimson  red  parted  over 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  49 

two  rows  of  the  whitest,  evenest  little  teeth 
imaginable,  and  such  a  look  of  fun  and  mischief, 
roguery  and  mockery  in  eyes,  and  lips,  and 
smile,  as  sent  the  color  in  a  flame  into  Clifford's 
face.  It  was  evident  that  this  face  had  been 
looking  out  of  the  window  for  some  minutes 
past,  and  that  the  young  woman  who  owned 
the  face  must  have  narrowly  observed  both  his 
bewilderment  and  curiosity,  and  also  the  inde- 
cision of  his  halting  movements,  and  the  awk- 
ward hesitation  that  had  made  him  linger  out- 
side and  stare  up  at  the  house. 

Immediately  Mark  Clifford  was  overpowered 
by  a  wave  of  profound  self-consciousness,  and 
a  blush  of  shame  seemed  to  pour  itself  like  a 
bucket  of  hot  water  all  over  him. 

He  took  to  his  heels  and  fled — away — away, 
from  that  beautiful  mocking  face  looking  out  of 
the  window! 

And  as  he  strode  precipitately  down  the 
street,  a  heavy  hand  descended  suddenly  upon 
his  shoulder  and  arrested  his  hasty  footsteps, 
whilst  a  not  unfamiliar  voice  resounded  in  his 
ears. 

"Not  so  fast!  Wait  a  minute!  Why  are  you 
running  away,  Mr.  Clifford?  I  saw  you  from 
the  linen  draper's  opposite  and  I've  rushed  out 
to  catch  you." 


50  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Clifford  turned  and  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  the  "universal  mother." 

"Mrs.  Ommaney!    Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon!" 

"Why  are  you  running  away?" 

"I— I  was  not  running  away,  I  assure  you," 
he  stammered. 

"Well — you  were,  you  know,  but  not  from 
me,  I  hope!" 

"How  can  you  suggest  such  a  thing,  Mrs. 
Ommaney?" 

"Oh.  well,  that's  all  right.  My  trap  is  at  the 
White  Hart,  and  I'm  just  going  back  to  lunch, 
so  now  you  come  along  home  with  me  and  be 
introduced  to  my  Maud  and  the  rest— no  de- 
nial, please." 

Excellent  woman!  Apparently  she  bore  no 
animosity  for  his  previous  ungracious  conduct, 
thought  Clifford.  What  angels  of  forgiveness 
women  are! 

So  he  got  into  "the  trap" — a  wagonette — like 
a  lamb,  and  was  driven  away  to  lunch  at  the 
Ommaneys',  three  miles  away;  and  all  the  time 
he  was  driving  there,  that  wicked  malicious 
mocking  face  gibed  at  him  and  haunted  him 
with  a  painful  persistence  largely  diluted  with 
pleasurable  excitement. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  5 1 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FOR  somehow,  even  when  he  was  sitting  at 
that  hospitable  luncheon-table,  Clifford's  mind 
was  still  running  upon  the  face  he  had  left 
looking  over  the  muslin  blind  in  Oldcastle  High 
Street. 

This  was  very  ungrateful  of  him,  because  his 
immediate  surroundings  should  have  been  suffi- 
cient to  put  it  out  of  his  thoughts. 

Mrs.  Ommaney,  large  and  fat  and  smiling,  sat 
at  the  top  of  the  table;  her  husband,  large,  fat, 
smiling  and  bald,  sat  at  the  foot  of  it,  and 
carved  the  roast  leg  of  mutton ;  on  either  side 
of  the  table  stretched  long  vistas  of  what  their 
mother  had  called  "my  Maud  and  the  rest." 

There  seemed  to  be  a  great  many  of  them, 
seven  sisters  in  fact,  and  one  small  boy,  the 
youngest;  but  only  to  Maud  the  eldest  was 
Clifford  formally  introduced;  "the  rest"  were 
merely  indicated  by  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

Maud  was  seated  on  his  left  hand.  She  was 
a  rosy-cheeked,  blue-eyed  young  woman  of 
twenty-two,  and  was  evidently  thought  a  great 


52  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

deal  of  by  her  parents  and  family.  She  was, 
in  short,  the  flower  of  the  flock,  and  main- 
tained a  certain  superiority  of  manner  over  the 
others. 

This  she  achieved,  not  by  means  of  beauty, 
for  she  was  not  at  all  beautiful,  nor  yet  by 
talent,  for  she  was  not  really  clever.  At  the 
same  time  she  was  not  a  young  woman  who 
could  ever  have  been  passed  over  in  a  crowd. 

She  was  tall  and  had  what  is  called  a  "smart" 
figure,  and  she  knew  how  to  put  her  clothes  on. 
She  also  knew  how  to  talk;  she  had  a  great 
deal  of  assurance  and  could  converse  volubly 
on  any  given  subject,  however  little  she  really 
knew  about  it.  Maud  always  took  the  lead  in 
the  home  circle,  and  her  mother  considered  her 
a  wonderful  girl,  and  had  great  hopes  of  her 
making  a  brilliant  match,  and  so  clearing  the 
road  for  her  less  remarkable  sisters. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mrs.  Ommaney  firmly 
believed  that  Maud's  greatest  opportunity  had 
now  come;  and  she  had, already  confided  to  her 
worthy  but  somewhat  slow-witted  husband  that 
this  young  Clifford  had  only  to  meet  their  gifted 
daughter  to  fall  at  once  over  head  and  eare  in 
love  with  her. 

"I  see  the  finger  of  Providence  in  that  young 
man's  coming  to  Esselton,"  she  had  said  to 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  53 

him;  "youth,  money,  position! — he  is  the  very 
man  for  Maud!" 

Maud  doubtless  thought  so  too,  for  she  spared 
no  pains  to  make  herself  agreeable  to  the  guest. 

With  her  usual  fearlessness  and  directness 
of  speech,  she  plunged  at  once  into  the  some- 
what delicate  subject  of  the  restorations  at 
Esselton. 

"So  you  have  got  old  George  Jones  to  do  for 
you  after  all,  I  hear/  Why  on  earth  didn't 
you  come  and  have  a  talk  to  me  first,  Mr. 
Clifford?  I've  made  household  art  my  study 
for  years.  1  send  designs  of  furniture  and  wall 
papers  to  many  of  the  leading  ladies' papers; 
didn't  mamma  tell  you?" 

"Yes,  indeed  she  did,  Miss  Ommaney,  and  I 
was  really  sorry,  but  you  see " 

"Oh,  don't  apologize!  it's  of  no  consequence. 
Only  it's  a  pity,  because  I  could  have  put  you 
in  the  right  way;  but  if  you  like  George  Jones 
best,  why,  there's  no  more  to  be  said!  I'm 
afraid  he  will  give  you  a  lot  of  trouble 
though." 

"The  ladies  in  this  neighborhood  seem  all  to 
know  a  great  deal  about  house  decorations," 
observed  Clifford. 

"Well,  you  see,  it's  one  of  the  modern  crazes, 
everybody  talks  about  it  nowadays;  but  many 


54  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

people  think  they  know  a  great  deal  on  the  sub- 
ject who  really  know  nothing  at  all." 

"There  was  Mrs.  Bruhen,  too." 

"Ah!  beware  of  Mrs.  Bruhen,  Mr.  Clifford!" 
interpolated  Mrs.  Ommaney,  shaking  a  fat  fin- 
ger warningly  at  him;  "these  young,  flirting, 
married  women  are  most  dangerous;  she  will 
get  hold  of  you  if  she  can;  why,  I  overheard 
her  offer  to  go  up  to  London  and  take  you  to 
shops,  and  she  asked  you  to  give  her  lunch  too! 
What  are  the  women  of  the  day  coming  to!" 

"Yes,  and  the  worst  of  her  is  that  is  that  she 
is  absolutely  ignorant  on  the  subject  of  decora- 
tion," observed  Maud;  "no  taste.no  culture, no 
eye  for  color!" 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  you  have  a  professional  in 
Oldcastle,"  said  Clifford,  leading  the  conversa- 
tion to  where  he  had  desired  to  turn  it.  "There 
is  a  place  calling  itself  'Ye  shoppe,'  of  which,  I 
believe,  Miss  Ashley  is  the  presiding  genius?" 

"Miss  Ashley!"  cried  Maud  with  a  laugh; 
"well,  there  is  a  perfect  fraud  if  you  like! 
Miss  Ashley  has  bought  a  few  old  tables  and 
chairs  at  farmhouse  sales,  and  she  sticks  a  few 
brass  pots  and  earthenware  bowls  in  her  win- 
dow, and  then  calls  herself  an  art  decorator! 
nothing  could  be  more  ridiculous!  she  was  just 
a  daily  governess  to  begin  with— she  used  to 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  55 

teach  me  once! — and  then  somebody  left  her  a 
small  sum  of  money,  which  she  invested  in  that 
horrid  little  house  and  shop.  My  dear  Mr. 
Clifford,  for  heaven's  sake  don't  be  taken  in  by 
her!  her  Chippendale  is  all  sham— knocked  up 
by  a  carpenter  in  the  back  yard,  and  as  to  the 
Sheraton  sideboard  in  her  front  shop,  it's  no 
more  genuine  than  her  Lowestoft  china  or  her 
old  Delft.  You  will  be  cheated  to  a  certainty  if 
you  buy  anything  of  her;  she  is  a  regular 
swindle — that's  what  Miss  Ashley  is!" 

"I  believe  she  is  making  a  lot  of  money," 
remarked  one  of  the  younger  girls. 

"So  can  anybody  make  money,  Ada,  if  they 
have  no  conscience  and  no  honesty,  and  go  in 
for  cheating  the  public." 

"Please  tell  me,  Miss  Ommaney,"  put  in 
Clifford,  "as  you  seem  to  know  so  much  about 
her,  has  Miss  Ashley  a  sister?" 

"A  sister?  not  that  1  ever  heard  of." 

"Or  a  niece?" 

"She  might  have — for  she  is  quite  old  enough 
to  be  an  aunt,  or  a  great-aunt,  for  the  matter  of 
that,"  said  Maud,  contemptuously  and  spite- 
fully, "but  why  do  you  ask?" 

"Oh! — only — I  thought  I  saw  another  lady, 
not  Miss  Ashley,  as  1  passed  the  shop  this 
morning/' 


56  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Oh,  that  will  be  the  shop  assistant,"  she  an- 
swered, after  a  moment's  pause.  "Somebody 
was  tolling  me  yesterday  that  Miss  Ashley  has 
actually  set  up  a  shop  girl !— got  her  through 
an  advertisement  in  the  local  papers.  What 
can  she  want  with  a  shop  girl,  I  should  like  to 
know!" 

Then  Maud  proceeded  to  bring  back  the  con- 
versation to  herself  and  to  her  own  talents, 
which  was  infinitely  more  interesting  to  her 
than  talking  about  Miss  Ashley. 

Clifford  listened  politely,  and  answered 
prettily  at  intervals— just  an  appreciative 
"yes,"  or  "certainly,"  or  "quite  so,"  now  and 
again  was  really  all  that  was  necessary,  for 
Maud  talked  on  quite  happily,  laying  down  the 
law  and  explaining  and  instructing  her  hearers, 
and  sho  quite  believed  that  she  was  making  a 
most  favorable  impression  on  Mr.  Clifford, 
whereas  at  his  heart  this  polite  and  smiling 
young  man  thought  her  an  odious  and  ill-natured 
girl,  and  heartily  wished  that  the  lunch  would 
come  to  an  end. 

It  was  hateful  what  she  had  said,  too,  about 
that  face!  For  it  must  be  the  face  that  she  had 
meant.  A  shop  girl!  oh,  no,  impossible,  perish 
the  unholy  thought! 

He  determine  1  that  he  would  go  past  that 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  57 

"olde  shoppe"  once  more  on  his  way  home. 
As  soon  as  he  could  he  made  his  escape  from 
the  house,  but  he  found  it  impossible  to  do  so 
without  inviting  the  whole  party  over  to  Essel- 
ton.  Maud  was  so  anxious,  she  said,  to  see 
what  George  Jones  was  about — she  might  be 
able  to  give  him  a  few  judicious  hints,  might 
rectify  some  of  his  mistakes,  and  try  to  imbue 
him  with  a  few  new  ideas. 

"Oh,  do  let  me  come  over  and  see!"  she 
pleaded,  clasping  her  hands  gushingly  together. 

Clifford  turned  to  her  mother. 

"Perhaps  you  will  bring  Miss  Ommaney  over 
to  tea  one  day,  Mrs.  Ommaney?"  he  murmured, 
not  without  a  wild  hope  that  the  invitation 
might  -be  declined,  but  the  ladies  jumped  at  it, 
and  Ada  and  "the  rest"  at  once  asked  if  they 
might  not  come  too,  and  then  scarcely  waiting 
for  his  assent  they  proceeded  to  fix  Saturday 
next  for  the  visit. 

Clifford  secretly  wondered  how  Docker  would 
take  it,  and  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  how  he 
should  best  break  it  to  him  that  he  had  invited 
five  ladies  to  tea.  Then  as  he  walked  away 
down  the  drive  a  sudden  brilliant  idea  occurred 
to  him — in  for  a  penny,  in  for  a  pound!  why 
should  he  not  give  a  regular  tea  party?  There 
were  several  rooms  at  Esselton  that  were  still 


58  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

left  intact  and  uninvaded  by  the  all-pervading 
George  Jones  and  his  minions,  and  on  a  Satur- 
day all  the  workmen  went  away  early.  Why 
not  give  an  entertainment  on  a  large  scale  in 
these  rooms?  A  few  cards  had  been  left  upon 
Mr.  Clifford  during  his  week's  absence  in  town; 
the  return  visits  had  been  much  upon  his  mind ; 
why  not  do  off  all  his  social  duties  at  one  fell 
swoop  by  issuing  cards  of  his  own  to  a  general 
tea  fight?  he  would  not  then  at  all  events  be 
driven  into  a  tete-a-tete  with  Miss  Maud  Om- 
maney. 

The  idea  commended  itself  much  to  his  mind, 
especially  as  such  an  invitation  would  naturally 
embrace  Miss  Ashley — "Miss  Ashley  and — 
party,"  he  thought  that  that  mysterious  word 
might  possibly  bring  the  "shop  girl,"  so-called, 
to  his  door.  No,  he  knew  that  she  was  not  a 
shop  girl.  What  a  malicious  slanderer  was 
Maud  Omraaney !  That  face,  those  eyes,  that 
smile!  how  could  they  be  the  face  and  eyes  and 
smile  of  a  shop  girl?  Impossible!  He  hast- 
ened his  steps  as  he  thought  of  the  mysterious 
face,  hoping  to  catch  sight  of  it  once  again  over 
the  top  of  the  blind  as  he  passed  the  "olde 
shoppe"  on  his  way  home.  This  time,  he  said 
to  himself,  he  would  be  no  coward ;  her  mock- 
ing smile  should  not  cause  him  to  fly  like  a 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  59 

hunted  hare;  he  would  be  brave  and  bold;  he 
would  stalk  up  to  the  brass  knocker  of  the  ivy- 
clad  cottage  doors  and  wield  it  loudly  like  a 
knight  of  old  (he  mentally  called  himself  a 
"knighte  of  olde")  who  storms  the  fortress 
where  the  lady  (again  he  called  it  "ladye")  of 
his  affections  is  languishing  in  prison,  and  once 
inside,  he  would  himself  invite  the  fair  occu- 
pants to  his  tea  party. 

Fired  by  these  inspiriting  thoughts  he  hast- 
ened onwards,  for  the  autumn  afternoon  was 
drawing  in  and  he  wanted  to  get  to  Miss  Ash- 
ley's door  before  darkness  set  in,  but,  alas!  an 
unforeseen  delay  thwarted  his  purpose. 

The  swiftness  of  Swifts  whirled  by  him ;  a 
neat  head  turned,  and  an  equally  neat  tailor- 
bound  form  alighted  promptly  a  couple  of  yards 
in  front  of  him,  and  a  small  doe-skinned  hand 
was  thrust  forth  to  greet  him. 

"Mr.  Clifford!  oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you! 
I  have  been  wondering  what  had  become  of 
you,  and  why  you  have  never,  never  been  to 
return  my  visit.  Oh,  you  naughty,  rude 
man!" 

Clifford  murmured  that  he  had  been  away. 
"And  besides " 

"And  besides,  you  were  ashamed  to  come 
after  throwing  me  over,  and  going  to  George 


60  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Jones  after  all,  who  will  just  ruin  your  nice  old 
house  for  you! — you  dreadful  Philistine!" 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  a  Philistine,"  admitted 
Clifford  ruefully. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are!  But  never  mind,  we 
must  just  make  the  best  of  you  as  you  are. 
Where  have  you  been  to-day,  pray?" 

"I  have  been  lunching  with  the  Ommaneys," 
admitted  Clifford. 

"Oho!  so  that's  the  game,  is  it?  How  on 
earth  did  she  induce  you  to  go?" 

"Well,  you  see,  she  just  picked  me  up  in  the 
wagonette  this  morning  and  carried  me  off.  I 
had  no  time  to  protest,"  laughed  Clifford. 

"What  a  master  stroke!  Well,  and  what  did 
you  think  of  'my  Maud'  ?  Isn't  she  a  caution?" 

"She  struck  me  as  being  a  little  ill-natured." 

"Ill-natured!  I  believe  you;  her  tongue  is 
vinegar !  They  are  horrid  people  altogether,  the 
Ommaneys,  I  think;  the  universal  mother  is 
always  trying  to  catch  some  wretched  man,  and 
the  girls  are  so  silly  and  so  conceited;  don't  go 
there  again,  Mr.  Clifford." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  will  say  I've  done 
wrong,  but  I  have  invited  them  all  to  tea  with 
me  on  Saturday/' 

Mrs.  Bruhen's  eyes  opened. 

"My  goodness!"  she  ejaculated,  "you  have 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  61 

put  your  foot  into  it!  She'll  give  out  that  you 
have  fallen  a  victim  to  Maud !" 

"Well,  no,  I  think  not,"  replied  Clifford 
quickly,  "because  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to 
save  me  from  that  danger  by  coming  too!" 

This  young  man  was  really  beginning  to  learn 
a  thing  or  two,  you  see. 

Mrs.  Bruhen  put  her  head  a  little  on  one  side. 

"Oh,  well,  that's  nice  of  you  certainly." 

"You  see  you  would  help  me  so  much,  Mrs. 
Bruhen.  You— you  might  do  the  honors  for 
me,  you  know,  if  you  would  be  so  kind?" 

Nora  beamed  all  over  at  this. 

"Of  course  I  will,  my  dear  boy  ' — she  was 
fond  of  calling  young  men  her  "dear  boys" — 
"and  I'll  be  there  first,  before  the  Ommaneys 
come,  to  receive  them;"  and  she  added  to  her- 
self, "and  if  that  doesn't  rile  Mrs.  Ommaney 
and  teach  the  matchmaking  old  woman  a  lesson, 
I  don't  know  what  will!" 

"I  thought  too  of  asking  Miss  Ashley — and — 
and  any  friend  she  might  have  staying  with 
her,"  added  Clifford  a  little  awkwardly. 

This  rather  took  the  bloom  off  the  peach  for 
Mrs.  Bruhen.  For  a  moment  she  looked  dis- 
concerted, then  she  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  see  what  it  is;  you  want  to  give  a  reg- 
ular tea  iight,  I  suppose?" 


62  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"I — had  certainly  thought  of  it." 

"Well,  considering  the  nicknames  you  have 
already  earned  for  yourself  in  the  neighborhood 
you  are  really  not  so  bad!" 

"Nicknames? — what  nicknames?"  asked  Clif- 
ford quickly,  with  a  heightened  color;  he  had  a 
constitutional  horror  of  being  laughed  at. 

"Why,  we  all  call  you  the  misanthrope  or  the 
woman-hater,"  replied  Mrs.  Bruhen.  "People 
about  here  fancy  you  are  going  to  be  no  more 
use  than  your  old  uncle  was!" 

"Have  I  done  anything  to  deserve  so  cruel  a 
reproach?"  he  inquired. 

"Everything,  I  should  say,  or  rather  — 
nothing !  Pray  recall  the  incidents  of  our  first 
visit  to  you.  Why,  no  other  woman  in  the 
country  has  dared  to  come  near  you  since." 

"You  have  talked  about  it,  then?" 

"Why, of  course!  women  always  talk.  Look 
here,  this  is  the  gate  of  my  house;  so  come  in 
now  and  have  some  tea  and  be  introduced  to 
my  old  man  and  I'll  forgive  you!  Now  you 
can't  possibly  refuse,  so  don't  look  as  if  you 
were  going  to  say  'No.'  If  you  can  lunch  with 
the  Ommaneys  you  can  have  a  poor  little  cup  of 
tea  with  me — in  return  for  that  nice  lunch  in 
town  you  promised  me,  and  that  you  threw  me 
over  about — do  you  remember?" 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  63 

"I  remember  to  my  shame!"  he  replied;  and 
he  followed  her  into  the  house,  for  of  course  he 
saw  that  he  could  not  get  out  of  that  cup  of  tea. 

"You  see  you  all  frightened  me  so  much,'* 
he  murmured  deprecatingly.  "You  came  upon 
me  like  an  avalanche— like  three  avalanches,  I 
may  say." 

"Yes,  I  know.  If  I  had  been  alone  as  I  meant 
to  be " 

"Ah,  that  would  have  been  quite  different!" 
he  murmured  sentimentally.  He  was  really 
getting  on  very  nicely!  "But,  you  see,  I  was 
quite  unprepared  and " 

"And  you  are  young  and  shy  and  modest,  and 
you  can't  quite  realize  what  it  is  to  be  rich  and 
in  request — and  so  many  of  us  bewildered  you." 

"How  well  you  understand!" 

Mrs.  Bruhen  put  forth  her  hand — her  glove 
was  removed  now— and  laid  it  gently  on  that  of 
her  visitor.  The  fire-light  warmed  the  pretty 
drawing-room,  the  lamp  had  not  been  brought 
in;  there  were  flowers  and  pictures  and  old 
china,  and  an  atmosphere  of  refinement  and 
ease  pervaded  the  house. 

"Tell  me,"  murmured  the  siren,  "tell  me  be- 
fore my  old  man  comes  in — is  it  true  that  you 
may  not  marry  for  three  years?" 

"Yes,  it  is  true." 


64  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Ah,  1  am  glad!  You  won't  be  lost  to  us  at 
once  then!" 

"Lost?    You  mean  that  marriage— 

"Is  a  man's  undoing!"  Then  she  pushed 
back  her  chair,  removing  her  hand  at  the  same 
time.  "Here  is  Mr.  Bruhen— he  is  longing  to 
be  introduced  to  you;  aren't  you,  Fred?" 

Enter  Fred,  lamps,  and  tea  simultaneously, 
and  the  dangers  of  the  situation  promptly  van- 
ished. 

Later  on  Clifford  reflected  that  perhaps  Mrs. 
Ommaney  was  not  so  very  far  wrong  when  she 
had  labelled  Mrs.  Bruhen  "dangerous!" 

But  when  he  left  her  house  it  was  quite  too 
late  to  call  on  Miss  Ashley,  and  the  blinds  of 
the  "olde  shoppe"  were  all  closely  drawn. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  65 


CHAPTER   V. 

IN  order  fully  to  understand  the  various  ele- 
ments which  go  towards  the  making  up  of  the 
story  of  Mark  Clifford's  succession  to  his  uncle's 
fortune,  it  is  now  necessary  that  we  should  go 
back  to  a  period  about  a  fortnight  before  that 
tea  party  at  Esselton  Hall  which  was  destined 
to  become  almost  an  historic  event  in  the  for- 
tunes of  several  of  the  characters  of  my  story. 

The  scene  must  therefore  change — in  this  ret- 
rospective view — to  a  London  house  in  Burton 
Crescent,  W.  C.,  and  to  the  "front  parlor"  of 
the  ground  floor  apartments  thereof,  as  let  by 
a  very  unkempt  and  unattractive  lodging-house 
landlady. 

In  this  front  parlor  a  family  party  of  three 
were  assembled  together  one  foggy  morning  in 
anxious  consultation. 

An  elderly  man  lay  back  in  the  only  armchair 
in  the  room.  He  was  very  pale,  and  thin 
almost  to  emaciation,  and  seemed  to  have  but 
recently  recovered  from  a  severe  illness.  He 
was,  moreover,  self-evidently  poor  and  down  in 
the  world,  from  the  shabbiness  and  raggedness 


66  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

of  his  coat  and  shirt-cuffs.  Poverty  seemed 
also  to  have  stamped  her  unpleasing  hall-mark 
upon  his  two  companions — both  young  girls — 
for  their  clothes  were  patched  and  threadbare, 
and  made  after  a  style  that  had  long  gone  out 
of  fashion.  The  younger  of  the  two  was  seated 
by  her  father's  chair,  holding  his  transparent 
hand  in  hers.  She  was  small  and  frail  looking, 
and  appeared  to  be  of  a  timid  and  nervous 
nature.  Her  dark  eyes,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
invalid,  rested  with  admiration  upon  the  elder 
sister,  who  stood  with  her  back  to  the  fireplace 
in  the  center  of  the  hearthrug,  talking  volubly 
and  earnestly,  and  with  a  certain  energy  of  con- 
viction which  seemed  intended  to  sweep  away 
the  doubts  and  hesitations  in  the  minds  of  her 
two  hearers. 

*'I  tell  you  it  can  be  done,  it  shall  be  done, 
and  I  am  going  to  do  it!"  she  was  saying.  "I 
am  going  to  succeed — I  don't  know  the  meaning 
of  the  word  failure.  Do  you  imagine  that  I 
would  have,  dragged  you  both  halfway  round 
the  world  if  I  had  not  felt  certain  that  I  could 
carry  the  thing  out?" 

"I  wish  from  my  heart  we  had  never  come 
to  this  miserable  country!"  sighed  her  sister, 
tearfully. 

"That  is  because  you  have  no  more  pluck 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  67 

than  a  sparrow,  Ella !  Luckily  nothing  depends 
upon  you;  your  only  part  in  the  whole  matter 
is  to  take  care  of  father." 

"It  seems  to  me  to  be  a  most  wild  and  pre- 
posterous undertaking,  my  loved !"  murmure  the 
man  in  the  armchair,  shaking  his  head  du- 
biously. "How  are  you  going  to  begin?" 

"I  have  begun,  father!  My  advertisement  is 
in  yesterday's  Gazette,  the  local  Gazette;  here 
it  is  doesn't  it  read  well?  'Wanted  in,  or  near, 
Oldcastle,  Middleshire,  by  a  young  lady  of  pre- 
possessing appearance'  " — here  she  laughed  and 
flung  back  her  dark  head.  "Am  I  not  prepos- 
sessing?*' she  queried  gayly;  "can  you  deny  it, 
you  faint-hearted  people?" 

"My  darling  Chris,  you  are  beautiful,  the 
most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world  to  me!" 

"Well,  then,  I  haven't  overstated  the  case, 
have  I? — 'by  a  young  lady  of  prepossessing  ap- 
pearance, a  situation  of  trust,  as  companion, 
secretary,  or  amanuensis  to  a  lady;  has  a  good 
handwriting,  is  clever  at  accounts,  and  has 
some  knowledge  of  bookkeeping.  Salary  not 
so  much  an  object  as  a  refined  and  comfortable 
home.  Eeferences  unfortunately  impossible,  as 
she  is  a  stranger  lately  arrived  from  the 
Colonies.'  " 

"Yes,  that  is  just  where  you  will  fail,"  said 


68  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

her  sister  gloomily.  "Nobody  in  this  suspi- 
cious country  will  take  you  without  a  refer- 
ence! and  as  everything  is  to  be  a  secret  from 
everybody  who  knows  us,  references  are  out  of 
the  question!" 

"Yes,  but  don't  you  see,  you  silly  thing,  that 
I  have  quite  squared  that  difficulty  by  what  I 
say  about  a  salary !  for  one  woman  who  requires 
a  reference  there  are  at  least  fifty  who  will 
waive  the  point  in  consideration  of  not  having 
to  give  any  money!  Oh,  I  know  the  world 
through  and  through !  and  I  take  it  the  world 
is  pretty  much  the  same  in  this  hemisphere  as 
it  is  in  the  other!  I  haven't  been  a  daily 
governess  for  five  years  in  Melbourne  for 
nothing!" 

"Well,  it  remains  to  be  seen,  doesn't  it, 
whether  you  will  ever  get  an  answer  to  your 
advertisement?"  said  her  father.  "If  you 
don't,  what  step  are  you  prepared  to  take 
next?" 

"I  shall  get  down  to  Middleshire  somehow  or 
other,"  replied  the  girl  earnestly.  "I  might 
perhaps  go  to  the  house  itself  as  a  housemaid 
or  kitchenmaid." 

" Chris!"  cried  her  sister  with  an  accent  of 
real  horror,  "how  can  you  talk  like  that!" 

Christina  laughed.    How  beautiful  and  bright 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  69 

was  that  laughing  face,  full  of  sanguine  hope 
and  joyful  courage! 

"I  know  I  shall  get  an  answer,  Ella!"  she 
cried  gayly.  "I  dreamed  that  I  had  one  to-day, 
and  whatever  1  dream  always  comes  true." 

At  this  moment,  as  if  in  answer  to  her  words, 
the  double  rap  of  the  postman  sounded  loudly 
through  the  house. 

The  trio  in  the  ground  floor  parlor  exchanged 
looks.  There  was  a  little  pause,  then  a  knock 
at  their  own  door,  and  the  maid  of  all  work 
came  in  holding  out  a  letter  with  particularly 
grimy  fingers. 

"Is  this  for  you,  miss?" 

Chris  swooped  down  upon  it.  For  all  her 
pluck  and  courage,  her  fingers  shook  so  that 
they  could  scarcely  tear  open  the  envelope. 

The  others  watched  her  breathlessly  whilst 
she  glanced  through  the  letter. 

"It's  all  right,"  she  nodded  to  them,  then 
they  had  to  wait  again. 

"Tell  us,  my  dear,"  said  her  father. 

"I  will  read  the  letter  out  to  you.  It's  rather 
funny!  listen: 

'If  C.  P.'— those  were  the  [initials  I  put  in 
the  advertisement,  you  know — 'If  C.  P.  is  really 
desirous  of  making  herself  useful  without  a 
salary,  in  consideration  of  a  refined  and  pleas- 


70  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

ant  home  with  a  lady,  will  she  at  once  write  to 
Miss  Ashley,  Oldcastle,  stating  age,  height  and 
further  qualifications  as  to  temper  and  disposi- 
tion. Miss  Ashley  is  a  lady  by  birth,  but  re- 
duced by  circumstances  to  keeping  a 
shop-  -'  " 

"A  shop!"  burst  from  the  horrified  lips  of  her 
father  and  sister. 

"Wait,  this  isn't  a  common  shop! — 'a  shop  for 
artistic  objects  and  furniture.  Miss  Ashley  re- 
quires an  assistant  or  secretary  to  wait  upon 
customers  and  keep  the  accounts.  As  C.  P. 
can  give  no  references,  Miss  Ashley  would  pre- 
fer to  engage  her  by  the  week  on  trial;  if  she 
did  not  suit,  a  week's  notice  might  be  given  on 
either  side,  and  if  satisfactory  a  more  perma- 
nent arrangement  might  be  entered  into  later 
on.  C.  P.  had  better  come  down  for  a  week  on 
trial  as  soon  as  she  conveniently  can,  so  that 
Miss  Ashley  may  judge  if  she  will  suit  her.' 

"Out  of  the  question!"  cried  Ella  excitedly. 
"What  insolence!  what  does  she  take  you  for?" 

"My  dear  sister,  pray  be  calm;  it  is  not  'out 
of  the  question'  at  all,  because  I  am  going  down 
by  the  first  train  to-morrow.  I  don't  care  what 
the  place  is,  I  shall  take  it;  I  may  not  get  such 
a  chance  again." 

"My  dear  Chris,"  said  her  father,  "it  seems 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  71 

to  me  that  you  are  embarking  upon  a  most  peril- 
ous adventure,  for  really  even  if  you  do  take 
this  situation  I  can't  understand  what  you  are 
going  to  do  next !  If  you  would  only  just  allow 
me  to  consult  Messrs.  Chase,  my  solicitors, 
first •• 

"And  then  the  whole  scheme  would  fall  to 
the  ground  at  once !  for  what  solicitor  in  his 
senses  would  approve  of  it?  No,  my  dear 
father,  we  have  come  so  far  and  we  must  go  on. 
I  have  got  my  own  plans.  From  the  moment  I 
saw  the  terms  of  this  old  miser's  will,  I  felt 
convinced  that  something  could  be  done,  and 
why  should  you — why  should  Ella  and  I  end 
our  lives  in  grinding  poverty,  when  by  a  bold 
stroke  we  may  succeed  in  gaining  a  portion,  if 
not  the  whole,  of  this  splendid  inheritance?" 

"My  dear,  what  bold  stroke  do  you  contem- 
plate? pray  consider  the  young  man,  the  pres- 
ent owner — Mr.  Greville's  nephew — who  is  now 
in  possession." 

"Why  should  I  consider  him?  He  also,  it 
seems,  was  living  in  poverty  and  obscurity,  and 
he  was  probably  quite  content  with  his  lot;  he 
was  never  brought  up  to  expect  anything  bet- 
ter. Besides  which  he  is  young,  and  presum- 
ably healthy — at  twenty-five  a  healthy  man 
can  work  for  himself,  because  life  is  before 


72  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

him;  but  at  sixty,  with  broken  health,  a  man  is 
no  longer  able  to  work.  It  is  right  and  fair  that 
you  should  be  rich  and  comfortable  in  your  old 
age,  as  that  horrid  old  man  always  led  you  to 
suppose  that  you  would  be,  and  if  it  is  in  my 
power  by  any  art  or  contrivance  to  wrest  this 
fortune  away  from  this  youth,  who  does  not 
want  it  in  the  least,  and  to  give  it  to  you,  who 
can  enjoy  and  appreciate  it  fully,  then  I  shall 
certainly  do  so — at  any  rate  I  am  going  to  have 
a  good  try  tor  it;  so  do  not  seek  any  longer  to 
dissuade  me." 

Charles  Greville,  for  this  invalid  gentleman 
was,  as  the  reader  will  have  divined,  the  late 
miser's  Australian  cousin,  sighed  a  little  and 
shook  his  head,  but  he  did  nothing  more  de- 
cided than  that.  Great  misfortunes  had  broken 
his  spirit  as  well  as  his  health,  and  he  was  so 
used  to  be  led  and  dominated  by  his  strong- 
willed  daughter  that  he  never  attempted  to  con- 
trol her  in  any  way. 

At  the  time  of  his  marriage  Charles  Greville 
had  been  a  prosperous  and  well-to-do  man.  He 
had  owned  large  vineyards  and  lived  upon  his 
own  land  in  good  style  and  with  every  comfort. 
But  of  late  years  things  had  gone  steadily  down 
with  him ;  bad  years  had  ruined  his  grapes,  and 
he  had  vainly  striven  to  pull  back  his  losses  by 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  73 

speculations  which  had  failed,  and  had  only  re- 
duced him  to  still  lower  straits.  Acre  after 
acre  of  his  land  was  sold  at  a  loss,  and  after  his 
wife's  death  he  was  obliged  to  part  with  his 
country  home  altogether,  and  to  begin  life  over 
again  in  a  very  humble  fashion  in  Melbourne. 
He  obtained  a  clerkship  at  a  bank  with  a  small 
salary,  and  his  two  girls  were  obliged  to  work 
for  their  living  also.  Chris  became  a  daily 
governess,  and  Ella,  more  frail  and  less  able 
to  battle  with  the  world,  added  a  precarious 
mite  to  the  family  store  by  mending  and  repair- 
ing old  laces  and  embroideries. 

But  still  he  had  managed  to  keep  up  his  cour- 
age, because  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  had 
always  believed  that  his  father's  unknown 
cousin  in  England,  the  head  of  the  old  family, 
intended  to  leave  him  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  at  his  death.  Old  Mr.  Greville  corre- 
sponded regularly  with  his  Australian  cousin, 
and  although  he  had  promised  nothing  defi- 
nitely, still  he  had  frequently  implied  and  given 
him  to  understand  that  he  would  not  leave  him 
unprovided  for  in  his  will,  and  possibly,  had 
Charles  had  a  son,  the  old  man  would  have 
made  him  his  heir. 

His  solicitors  in  London,  Messrs.  Chase  & 
Son,  had  been  directed  to  telegraph  the  news  of 


74  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Henry  Greville's  death  and  testamentary  dis- 
positions to  their  client  as  soon  as  the  event 
took  place. 

The  blow  when  it  fell  was  doubly  bitter,  be- 
cause failing  health  had  recently  compelled 
Charles  Greville  to  resign  his  clerkship,  so  that 
nothing  but  sheer  beggary  now  stared  him  in 
the  face. 

The  conditions  of  the  will,  curious  and  ex- 
traordinary as  they  were,  seemed  to  hold  out  no 
sort  of  hope  for  him,  because  he  could  not  con- 
ceive that  any  young  man  would  be  so  foolish 
as  to  fail  to  carry  them  out  to  the  uttermost 
letter. 

When  he  received  a  copy  of  the  will,  posted 
to  him  by  Messrs.  Chase,  he  himself  scarcely 
glanced  at  it,  so  remote  and  hopeless  did  his 
own  reversionary  interest  in  it  seem.  But  there 
was  one  person  who  read  and  reread  it  eagerly, 
poring  by  the  hour  together  over  the  long- 
winded  sentences  of  the  formally  worded  docu- 
ment; and  that  person  was  his  eldest  daughter 
Christina. 

Now  Christina  Greville  was  a  very  remark- 
able young  woman  indeed.  She  was  not  only 
very  beautiful,  but  she  was  also  endued  with 
the  most  striking  qualities  of  mind.  She  had 
an  indomitable  will,  a  courage  that  refused  to 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  75 

accept  defeat,  a  strong,  hopeful,  buoyant  dis- 
position that  was  capable  of  over-riding  every 
sort  of  danger  and  difficulty.  And  after  Chris- 
tina— or  Chris,  as  she  was  usually  called — had 
sufficiently  studied  the  late  Mr.  Greville's  will 
and  its  conditions,  she  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  case  was  not  hopeless  at  all.  Man, 
Chris  said  to  herself,  is  an  exceedingly  weak 
animal — that  is  to  say,  he  is  weak  at  his  weak- 
est point,  at  the  joints  of  his  armor,  so  to 
speak.  A  man  as  young  as  Mr.  Mark  Clifford 
was  perfectly  certain  to  be  as  weak  as  most 
other  men  of  his  age;  and  Chris  knew  herself 
to  be  exceedingly  strong. 

Therefore,  she  argued,  there  was  something 
be  done. 

And  that  something  she  proceeded  forthwith 
to  put  in  train.  That  was  how  the  invalid 
father  and  his  two  daughters  came  to  be  located 
about  two  months  later  in  that  dreary  London 
lodging  which  I  have  described,  where  they  in- 
stalled themselves  under  the  name  of  Mr.  and 
the  Misses  Pratt. 

"If  we  must  take  a  false  name,"  had  pleaded 
poor  Mr.  Greville,  "let  it  at  least  be  some  name 
to  which  we  have  a  shadow  of  a  right.  My 
poor  mother's  name  was  Pratt." 

"Then  Pratt  it  shall  be,"  replied  Chris;  "it 


76  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

will  do  quite  as  well  as  any  other,  I  dare- 
say." 

The  following  afternoon  found  "Miss  Pratt" 
knocking  at  the  quaint  brass  knocker  of  Miss 
Ashley's  ivy-covered  cottage  in  Oldcastle,  High 
Street;  her  modest  box  was  on  the  fly  behind 
her,  and  soon  she  and  her  belongings  were 
safely  housed  inside. 

Miss  Ashley  proved  to  be  by  no  means  the 
cross-grained  old  maid  that  somehow  Chris  had 
imagined  her  to  be.  She  was  not  old  to  begin 
with — thirty-three  at  the  outside — and  she  was 
very  amiable  and  gracious  in  her  reception  of 
the  young  lady  who  wanted  to  come  and  be  her 
shop  assistant  for  nothing  at  all!  This  in  point 
of  fact  was  the  delightful  feature  of  the  case, 
although  the  lady  decorator  secretly  wondered 
a  little  what  were  Miss  Pratt's  motives  in  offer- 
ing her  services  for  no  remuneration. 

"I  suppose  you  want  to  learn  the  business?" 
she  remarked  tentatively,  as  the  two  ladies  sat 
down  to  tea  together  that  evening,  each  mentally 
taking  stock  of  one  another. 

Chris  nodded.    "Partly." 

"And  perhaps  you  have  heard  of  me  in  Lon- 
don?" 

Miss  Pratt  only  smiled  her  brilliant  smile. 
She  often  found  a  silent  smile  a  very  effective 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  77 

card  to  play,  when  she  did  not  know  quite 
what  reply  to  make  to  inconvenient  questions. 
It  answered  very  well  on  this  occasion. 

"Ah!  I  see  that  you  have!"  cried  Miss  Ash- 
ley with  satisfaction.  "I  am  well  known  in  the 
trade  by  now.  I  am  considered  a  wonderful 
judge  of  Chippendale — and  if  you  have  ever 
been  into  Bartington's  great  warehouses  in  the 
city-" 

"'Well,  I  have  been  inside  them,"  admitted 
Chris,  which  was  strictly  true. 

"Then  of  course  if  you  told  them  you  wanted 
to  go  in  for  learning  about  decorating  and  an- 
tique furniture  they  would  be  certain  to  men- 
tion my  name  to  you !  I  understand  all  about 
it  now!"  and  Miss  Ashley  beamed. 

"How  clever  you  are!" 

"But  why  did  you  advertise?" 

"I  thought  it  the  better  plan,  as  I  had  no  ref- 
erences." 

"I  see,"  said  Miss  Ashley,  who  thought  she 
understood  everything.  "I  like  what  I  see  of 
you,  and  I  feel  sure  we  shall  get  on  together. 
You—are  rather  good-looking,  you  know." 

"Very,  I  have  been  told,"  replied  Miss  Pratt 
smilingly;  "is  that  an  objection?" 

"Oh,  no,  on  the  contrary,  a  good-looking  shop 
assistant  is  rather  an  attraction." 


78  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Like  a  good-looking  barmaid,  I  suppose?" 

"Well — since  you  put  it  so — yes.  But  now 
we  have  finished  tea,  and  I  will  show  you  what 
your  duties  will  be.** 

And  the  rest  of  the  conversation  was  purely 
professional. 

It  was  three  days  later  that  Miss  Pratt,  who 
was  standing  near  the  window,  called  out  to 
Miss  Ashley: 

"Who  is  that  man  standing  outside  staring  up 
at  the  house  as  if  he  were  daft?" 

Miss  Ashley  looked  up. 

"Why,  good  gracious!  that's  Mr.  Clifford, the 
new  owner  of  Esselton  Hall.  Bush  to  the  win- 
dow, Miss  Pratt!  I  want  to  catch  him  above 
everything;  he  ought  to  be  a  capital  customer. 
If  he  sees  your  face  looking  out  it  may  bring 
him  in.  Be  quick,  smile  or  beck  on— do  some- 
thing— don't  let  him  pass!" 

Miss  Pratt  flew  to  obey  orders,  but  they 
amused  her  so  very  much  that  she  overdid  it 
and  laughed  outright. 

"Why,  he  has  flown!"  cried  Miss  Ashley  in 
dismay.  "People  say  he  is  a  woman-hater,  and 
I  begin  to  believe  it,  for  you  seem  to  have 
frightened  him  away!" 

"I  believe  I  have !"  replied  Chris,  laughing 
still. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  79 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DOCKER  was  frankly  furious. 

"A  tea-party,  sir!"  he  ejaculated  blankly; 
"a  tea-party  here,  sir?  in  this  house?" 

"Yes,  certainly,  where  else  should  it  be?  in 
the  stables,  do  you  suppose?" 

"Your  uncle,  sir,  my  late  master,  never  had 
such  a  thing  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life!" 
stated  Docker  with  emphatic  indignation. 

"That  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not." 

"Oh,  of  course,  sir,  you  are  master!"  with  a 
disagreeable  sneer. 

"Yes,  certainly,  my  good  fellow,  please  do 
not  forget  it.  I  am  master." 

Docker  hated  to  be  called  a  "good  fellow," 
and  there  was  a  thundercloud  on  his  brow. 

"Beside  which,  it  ain't  decent!  Your  poor 
uncle  scarce  cold  in  his  grave,  so  to  speak,  and 
a  kick  up  in  the  house  over  his  corpse!" 

"It  is  three  months  since  Mr.  Greville  died, 
Docker;  he  must  be  cold  by  this  time,"  ob- 
served Clifford  pensively. 

Docker  only  spread  out  the  palms  of  his  fat 


So  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

hands  deprecatingly  as  though  to  wash  them  of 
the  contemplated  iniquity. 

"Very  well,  sir,  James  Docker  says  no  more," 
he  replied,  with  resignation  and  smothered 
wrath.  But  be  did  say  a  great  deal  more  be- 
fore the  Saturday  came,  for  he  proceeded  to 
make  difficulties,  every  sort  of  difficulty  in  fact. 

Docker  was  sure  he  didn't  know  how  many 
people  to  provide  for;  whether  there  were 
enough  cups  and  saucers  for  them,  to  say 
nothing  of  spoons — of  course  there  were  the 
best  tea-spoons,  but  Docker  wouldn't  take  upon 
himself  to  open  the  largo  plate-chest  in  order  to 
get  at  spoons  that  had  remained  locked  up  in  it 
for  close  on  a  hundred  years;  and  when  these 
were  got  out — and,  of  course,  if  Mr.  Clifford  in- 
sisted on  the  plate-chest  being  opened  he  sup- 
posed it  would  have  to  be  done — how  was  them 
spoons  to  be  cleaned  by  Saturday,  if  he  might 
be  so  bold  as  to  ask?  and  where  was  all  the 
cakes  and  kickshaws  needful  for  "them  ladies" 
to  come  from,  Docker  would  like  to  know?  and 
who  was  to  wait  on  'ern  all? 

It  was  only  when,  worn  almost  to  desperation 
by  these  and  similar  other  disagreeable  queries, 
Mr.  Clifford  lost  his  temper  utterly,  and  declared 
that  he  would  telegraph  up  to  Gunter's  for 
crockery,  plate,  eatables  and  waiters,  that 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  Si 

Docker,  realizing  at  last  that  it  was  impossible 
to  overthrow  the  proposed  entertainment, 
grumblingly  consented  to  obey  his  young  mas- 
ter's orders. 

He  told  the  cook,  indeed,  that,  as  far  as  he 
could  see,  Esselton  Hall  would  soon  be  turned 
into  an '"ell  upon  earth";  such  goings  on  was 
enough  to  make  the  dead  turn  in  their  grave, 
he  declared !  But  when  the  cook,  who  was  a 
sensible  body,  opined  that  it  was  the  living  and 
not  the  dead  for  whom  it  behooved  her  to  make 
cakes  and  confectionery,  and  that  it  was  there- 
fore needful  to  her  to  have  her  kitchen  to  her- 
self in  order  to  get  on  with  her  \vork,  Mr. 
Docker  gloomily  assented,  and  took  himself  off 
in  sulky  disgust  to  the  seclusion  of  his  own 
pantry. 

The  invitations,  duly  written  and  posted, 
created  a  perfect  flutter  of  excitement  in  the 
feminine  breasts  of  Middleshire.  Since  the  on- 
slaught of  the  three  rival  cyclists,  Mr.  Clifford 
nad  religiously  denied  himself  to  all  visitors, 
and  the  rumor  had  gone  forth  that  he  intended 
to  know  nobody.  It  could  not  always  be  true 
that  he  was  "out"  at  all  hours,  so  that  this  line 
of  conduct  had  not  been  well  received,  and  the 
most  unfavorable  reports  had  got  about  con- 
cerning him.  A  "misanthrope"  and  a  "worn- 


82  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

an-hater"  had  been  indeed  the  mildest  of  the 
titles  applied  to  him  by  the  irate  and  baffled 
female  community. 

Great  was  the  rejoicing,  therefore,  when  one 
morning's  post  brought  to  a  score  or  more  of 
the  neighboring  families  cards  of  invitation  to 
an  afternoon  gathering  at  Esselton  Hall.  Clif- 
ford went  up  in  the  popular  estimation  at  onco; 
for  of  course  now  it  was  evident  that  the 
wealthy  young  stranger  had  had  no  intention  of 
avoiding  and  insulting  his  neighbors;  he  was 
evidently  prepared  to  be  civil,  and  something 
might  yet  be  made  of  him  after  all!  And  with 
alacrity  they  one  and  all  accepted  the  invita- 
tion. 

Frocks,  hats,  jackets,  immediately  became 
the  prominent  questions  in  the  minds  of  the 
ladies  of  Middleshire.  Every  woman  of  them 
determined  to  do  her  very  best  to  cut  out  all  the 
rest,  and  at  the  same  time  to  create  a  good  im- 
pression upon  her  new  neighbor. 

A  fine  morning  ushered  in  the  appointed  day. 
Mr.  Clifford,  who  had  certain  inherent  instincts 
on  the  subject  of  entertaining,  was  up  betimes, 
superintending  the  preparations.  George  Jones 
had  as  yet  laid  no  devastating  hand  upon  the  en- 
trance hall,  the  study,  or  the  morning-room,  and 
these  three  rooms,  all  of  them  large  and  lofty, 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  83 

were  speedily  placed  in  order  for  the  reception 
of  the  guests.  The  hot-houses  were  rifled  for 
flowers  and  grapes,  the  unoccupied  rooms  were 
ransacked  for  tables  and  chairs,  and  a  Hun- 
garian band,  specially  ordered  down  from  Lon- 
don, arrived  early  in  the  day  to  take  up  a  posi- 
tion at  the  end  of  the  hall. 

Docker  remained  suspicious  and  intensely 
disagreeable,  but  as  it  was  beyond  his  power  to 
arrest  the  flow  of  events,  he  lent  himself  un- 
willingly to  the  furtherance  of  the  proceedings. 
As  to  the  maids  in  the  house,  from  the  cook 
down  to  the  dairy-maid,  they  all  were  delighted 
and  full  of  joyful  excitement,  and  ran  about 
gayly  and  merrily  all  the  morning,  so  that  the 
great  man  found  himself  in  a  minority  of  one, 
for  even  his  own  footman  turned  against  him 
and  rejoiced  in  the  unwonted  festivity. 

Nevertheless,  in  one  unhappy  house  on  the 
eventful  morning  there  was  weeping  and  woe 
and  gnashing  of  teeth.  No  one  had  been  more 
enchanted  than  Miss  Ashley  to  receive  Mr. 
Clifford's  invitation  card,  for  above  all  things 
she  longed  for  an  excuse  to  re-enter  the  house 
from  which  she  and  her  two  companions  in  mis- 
fortune had  been  so  ignominiously  routed.  Miss 
Ashley  was  quite  sure  that  by  dexterous 
wheedling  she  would  be  able  to  induce  Mr. 


84  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Clifford  to  purchase  somo  of  the  many  tempting 
things  which  filled  her  shop.  There  was  not, 
for  instance,  she  could  swear,  in  the  whole  of 
that  great  gloomy  drawing-room  at  Esselton 
one  single  little  inlaid  table,  not  an  ornamental 
screen  or  chair,  nor  any  of  the  hundred  and  one 
knick-knacks  without  which  drawing-rooms  all 
the  world  over  are  incomplete.  If  she  could 
make  only  a  little  beginning  with  these  trifles, 
Miss  Ashley  felt  assured  that  more  substantial 
purchases  would  follo\v,  and  such  a  customer 
as  Mr.  Clifford,  it  was  of  the  highest  importance 
to  her  to  secure.  He  was  so  rich  that  she  really 
thought  she  might  venture  to  ask  a  little  more 
for  the  things  than  she  would  do  to  an  ordinary 
customer.  She  conlided  this  sentiment  to  her 
new  assistant,  and  was  somewhat  disconcerted 
to  tind  that  Miss  Pratt  only  laughed,  and 
seemed  quite  incapable  of  understanding  that 
she  was  in  earnest. 

Although  she  was  extremely  delighted  to  re- 
ceive her  invitation,  she  was  somewhat  puzzled 
by  the  terms  of  it. 

'  'Miss  Ashley — and  party,'  she  read 
aloud.  "Now  what  can  he  mean  by  'party'  ?  " 

"I  expect  he  means  me,"  said  Miss  Pratt. 

"You,  Miss  Pratt!  Oh,  but  that  would  be 
impossible!  Besides,"  she  added  after  a  mo- 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  85 

merit's  thought,  "you  wouldn't  have  anything 
smart  enough  to  wear." 

"No,  that  is  true,"  assented  Miss  Pratt 
meekly. 

But  she  intended  to  go  all  the  same,  although 
at  the  moment  she  was  not  quite  sure  how  she 
was  going  to  achieve  it. 

Fate,  however,  played  unexpectedly  into  he:' 
hands,  On  the  Friday  morning,  Miss  Ashley 
came  down  to  breakfast  with  every  symptom  of 
a  bad  cold  upon  her;  by  midday  she  was  sneez- 
ing violently;  by  bedtime  she  was  sitting  with 
her  feet  in  mustard  and  water,  swallowing 
large  potions  of  gruel  with  her  head  rolled  up 
in  flannel. 

The  next  morning  she  was  incapable  of 
speech,  and  torrents  of  water  were  pouring  out 
of  her  swollen  eyes  and  off  the  end  or  her  red- 
dened nose. 

She  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass  and  recog- 
nized despairingly  that  she  was  a  hopeless  ob- 
ject, and  that  to  present  herself  that  afternoon 
at  a  large  and  festive  gathering  was  utterly  im- 
possible. 

"You'll  have  to  go,  after  all,  Miss  Pratt,"  she 
said  miserably  to  her  lady  secretary,  whom  she 
summoned  to  her  bedside;  "it  is  most  unlucky, 
but  you  see  what  a  fright  I  am !  You  must  go 


86  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

in  my  place  and  make  my  apologies,  and  do  all 
you  can  to  persuade  Mr.  Clifford  to  come  him- 
self and  see  me — by  Monday  I  ought  to  be  fit  to 
be  seen  again,  if  I  stay  in  bed  all  to-day  and  to- 
morrow; and  if  I  can  only  get  the  man  inside 
the  shop,  I  shall  be  able  to  make  him  buy 
something  I  know!" 

"I  will  do  my  best,  Miss  Ashley." 

"Well,  it's  very  good  of  you,  Miss  Pratt,  for 
of  course  it  will  be  awkward  for  you  going  to  a 
big  house  amongst  a  crowd  of  strangers  by 
yourself.  I  am  afraid  you  will  feel  very  shy." 

"Oh,  no,  I  sha'n't,"  said  Christina.  "I  am 
never  shy." 

"What  distresses  me  so  is  your  clothes.  I 
would  lend  you  a  dress — only " 

"Only  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  get  into  it!"  re- 
torted Chris  gayly.  "Why  your  skirts  wouldn't 
reach  to  my  ankles.  Besides,"  she  added  a 
little  thoughtfully,  "1  really  don't  think  under 
the  circumstances  that  I  require  to  be  well 
dressed." 

Miss  Ashley  secretly  agreed  with  her,  and 
said  to  herself  what  wonderful  good  feeling  and 
tact  this  girl  had !  for  of  course  she  perceived 
that  she  was  in  a  subordinate  position  alto- 
gether, and  that  it  was  more  befitting  to  her 
station  in  life  to  be  shabbily  dressed.  "She  is 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  87 

almost  like  ray  servant  in  fact;  scarcely  a  lady 
by  birth,  I  suppose,  poor  thing,  though  her 
manners  are  certainly  quite  presentable  and  her 
looks  decidedly  above  the  average.  At  the 
same  time  I  am  glad  that  she  is  modest  enough 
to  appreciate  the  immense  difference  between 
us." 

This,  as  Miss  Ashley  was  the  daughter  of  a 
country  attorney,  and  Miss  Pratt  was  nearly  re- 
lated to  the  late  Mr.  Greville  of  Esselton,  was  a 
somewhat  mistaken  conclusion  to  have  come 
to!  But  in  total  ignorance  of  this  fact  there 
was  no  doubt  bliss. 

So  Miss  Pratt  put  on  her  everyday  black 
serge  jacket  and  skirt,  which,  although  shabby 
to  the  verge  of  rags,  could  not  disfigure  the  fine 
outlines  of  her  graceful  form,  and  crowned  her 
head  with  a  straw  hat,  around  which  a  strand 
of  scarlet  ribbon  seemed  to  be  all  that  was 
needed  to  set  off  her  dark  eyes  and  hair,  and 
the  exquisite  tints  of  her  complexion;  and,  hav- 
ing accepted  the  loan  of  her  employer's  bicycle, 
she  rode  swiftly  away  in  the  direction  of  Essel- 
ton Hall,  Miss  Ashley  watching  her  departure 
from  her  bedroom  window  with  feelings  'of 
envy  and  utter  misery  quite  impossible  to  de- 
scribe. 

Gay  and  brave,  however,  as  was  the  face  she 


88  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

presented  to  the  world,  it  is  not  to  be  denied 
that  Chris  experienced  a  good  deal  of  inward 
trepidation  as  she  neare  1  the  scene  where  she 
intended  to  inaugurate  the  first  move  of  the 
bold  and  desperate  game  that  she  had  deter- 
mined to  play. 

It  was  not  the  gay  company  she  expected  to 
encounter, however,  that  she  feared;  the  crowd 
of  strangers,  the  curious  looks,  the  smart 
clothes  had  no  terrors  for  her ;  no,  nor  even  was 
it  the  man  himself,  for  she  had  seen  him  once, 
and  he  had  appeared  to  her  to  be  young  and  in- 
significant; it  was  the  magnitude  of  her  own 
designs  and  the  greatness  of  the  task  she  had 
set  herself,  which  caused  her  to  quail  a  little 
now  that  she  had  actually  entered  upon  the 
path  she  had  determined  to  pursue. 

Nevertheless  her  courage  rose  when  she 
turned  in  at  the  open  lodge  gates  of  Esselton 
Park.  To  the  Australian-bred  girl  it  was  her 
first  near  acquaintance  with  one  of  the  stately 
old  homes  of  the  mother  country,  of  which  she 
had  often  read,  but  which  she  had  never  imag- 
ined she  would  really  see.  The  wide  reaches 
of  the  park  were  beautiful  and  attractive  even 
in  winter.  Her  eyes  wandered  with  delight  to 
the  right  and  left,  over  long  slopes  dotted  with 
magnificent  trees,  deep  glades  carpeted  with 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  89 

brown  and  withered  bracken,  sombre  woods 
crowning  the  low  hills;  and  here  and  there  a 
herd  of  antlered  deer  clustered  together  in  some 
sheltered  hollow.  Then  the  long  wide  facade 
of  the  house  came  into  sight,  impressing  her 
with  its  cold  and  stately  solidity.  For  although 
it  was  not,  as  has  been  said,  a  beautiful  house, 
it  was  nevertheless  a  mansion  such  as  she  had 
read  about,  one  of  those  big  old  English  houses 
that  spoke  of  an  ancient  lineage  and  of  an  hon- 
ored race. 

Chris  drew  a  quick  breath  of  excitement  as 
she  wheeled  rapidly  nearer.  She  caught  a 
glimpse  of  terraced  gardens  beyond,  of  the 
glitter  of  glass  houses,  and  of  the  slate  roofs 
and  imposing  clock  tower  that  led  into  the 
roomy  stable-yard,  now  filled  to  overflowing  by 
the  carriages  of  the  guests.  The  wide  gravel 
sweep  before  the  white  colonnade  at  the  front 
door  was  also  alive  with  vehicles  and  men-ser- 
vants— it  was  evident  that  the  festivities  were 
now  in  full  swing.  It  might  have  been  some- 
what embarrassing  for  a  young  lady  an  entire 
stranger,  to  present  herself  alone  on  a  bicycle 
in  the  mist  of  such  a  concourse ;  but  Chris  felt 
none  of  this  natural  timidity  as  she  approached. 

The  feelings  she  "experienced  were  totally 
different.  A  deep  regret  filled  her  mind  as  she 


90  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

looked  upon  this  beautiful  place ;  and  she  said 
to  herself  bitterly  that  if  justice  had  only  been 
done  by  its  late  owner,  it  would  all  have  be- 
longed to  her  father,  and  after  him  to  herself. 

Nevertheless,  she  had  determined  to  wrest 
some  portion  of  his  wealth  from  the  usurper 
who  had  stolen  her  father's  heritage — for  it  was 
in  this  light  that  she  regarded  Mark  Clifford— 
and  what  she  experienced  at  this  moment,  was 
all  the  excitement  of  a  gambler  who  is  staking 
his  last  coin  upon  a  forlorn  but  gigantic  hope. 

Now  it  may  be  as  well  here  to  explain  what 
it  was  that  this  young  woman  had  set  herself  to 
do,  for  although  the  details  of  her  plan  were 
at  present  necessarily  somewhat  vague,  yet 
about  the  main  features  of  it  there  was  no 
vagueness  whatever. 

There  was  a  way  by  which,  bearing  in  mind 
the  curious  conditions  upon  which  Clifford  had 
inherited  his  uncle's  fortune,  it  would  be  pos- 
sible to  deprive  him  of  the  large  sum  of  £50,000. 
Chris  intended  to  make  Mr.  Clifford  break  one 
of  the  conditions  of  his  uncle's  will — notably 
that  one  particular  condition  which  ordained 
that  he  was  not  to  absent  himself  from  Essel- 
ton  Hall  for  longer  than  one  week  at  a  time. 

Chris  thought  she  could  easily  devise  a  means 
of  making  him  dance  half  over  Europe  after  her 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  91 

fair  self.  For  she  meant  first  and  foremost  to 
make  Mark  Clifford  fall  desperately  in  love 
with  her !  This  was  not  an  unwarrantable  in- 
tention, because  men  were  in  the  const-ant  habit 
of  falling  in  love  with  her,  and  Chris  knew  by 
experience  that  she  was  quite  able  to  fool  any 
man  unlucky  enough  to  be  enamored  of  her,  to 
the  very  top  of  his  bent.  Her  lovers  had  hith- 
erto taken  the  disease  very  badly  indeed,  and 
once  her  fish  was  hooked  she  had  no  sort  of 
doubt  as  to  her  being  able  to  play  him  to  any 
extent.  Further  than  that  she  had  no  intention 
of  going.  It  never  for  one  moment  entered  into 
her  scheme  to  marry  her  victim ;  she  meant  to 
stop  short  of  that,  of  course!  as  soon  as  she  had 
achieved  her  object  she  would  promptly  throw 
him  over,  remorselessly  and  without  any  shame 
at  all!  It  now  remains  to  be  seen  how  this  ex- 
tremely wicked  young  woman  carried  out  her 
shocking  and  nefarious  programme. 


92  The  Craze  of  Christina. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THERE  was  a  babel  of  feminine  voices. 

The  entrance-hall  was  a  mass  of  large  hats, 
waving  plumes,  velvets,  satins,  and  furs.  Every 
available  seat  was  occupied,  and  every  corner 
where  there  was  standing-room  was  full. 

The  good  people  of  Middleshire  had  gathered 
in  great  force,  and  as  most  of  them  had  brought 
not  only  their  families,  but  also  the  strangers 
within  their  gates,  the  party  had  swollen  to 
nearly  double  the  number  of  those  originally 
invited. 

Amongst  the  various  groups  of  guests,  Mrs. 
Bruhen,most  beautifully  attired  in  violet  velvet 
and  sable  fur,  moved  about  doing  the  honors 
and  acting  as  mistress  of  the  ceremonies  in  a 
manner  which  aroused  the  utmost  jealousy  in 
the  breasts  of  a  number  of  the  ladies  present. 
This  was,  however,  exactly  what  Nora  Bruhen 
liked,  and  she  was  specially  delighted  to  find 
how  much  the  attitude  she  assumed  in  Mark 
Clifford's  house  enraged  and  annoyed  Mrs.  Om- 
maney  and  her  eldest  daughter.  Mrs.  Bruhen 
was  determined  to  get  as  much  fun  as  she  could 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  93 

out  of  the  three  years  of  enforced  bachelorhood 
which  Clifford  was  doomed  to  spend  at  Essel- 
ton;  that  was  why  she  wished  to  pose  to-day  as 
the  principal  lady  friend  of  the  wealthy  host. 

Hitherto  bachelors  in  Middleshire  had  been 
rare.  Whenever  an  unlucky  man  had  appeared 
on  the  scenes,  an  occasional  military  son  or 
brother  on  leave,  or  some  well-to-do  city  man 
on  hunting  intent,  all  the  matrons  with  mar- 
riageable daughters  had  swooped  down  upon 
their  prey  in  no  time,  and  had  speedily  con- 
verted him  into  a  Benedict  of  the  mildest  and 
most  down-trodden  description. 

Now  a  young  married  woman  with  private 
aspirations  of  her  own,  gets  no  sort  of  fun  or 
advantage  out  of  a  newly  caught  husband. 
Bachelors  are  the  men  for  her;  and  such  a  rich 
bachelor  as  this  one,  ought  certainly  to  be  pro- 
ductive of  most  enjoyable  and  delightful  good 
times  to  the  clever  matron  who  should  set  about 
encompassing  her  ends  in  a  delicate  and  dex- 
terous manner. 

Mrs.  Bruhen  wanted  lots  of  nice  things  from 
Mark  Clifford.  Dinners,  luncheons,  fruit,  flow- 
ers and  game,  mounts  in  the  hunting  season, 
trips  up  to  London  in  the  summer,  operas  and 
plays  preceded  by  excellent  dinners  at  expen- 
sive restaurants.  She  would  not  indeed  be 


94  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

above  accepting  even  more  enduring  gifts,  such 
as  brooches,  bangles  and  pins,  in  diamonds, 
of  course,  but  not  in  compromising  diamonds, 
from  which  naturally  her  virtuous  soul  would 
have  recoiled  with  pious  horror.  But  there  can 
be  nothing  compromising  in  a  diamond  frog,  fly 
or  beetle!  in  a  jeweled  scent-bottle,  or  in  a 
carved  and  painted  fan !  Such  gifts  as  these 
are  on  a  totally  different  plane  to  tiaras  and 
bracelets  and  such  like,  and  no  right-minded 
husband  or  censorious-tongued  acquaintance  can 
possibly  raise  any  unpleasant  objection  to  them. 
So  Nora  Bruhen  also  was  playing  the  first  card 
of  her  game  to-day,  and  very  successfully  too, 
up  to  the  present  moment.  Clifford  in  fact  was 
deeply  grateful  to  her;  she  had  arrived  before 
anybody  else,  and  had  made  herself  extremely 
useful  immediately.  She  had  overhauled  the 
tea-table,  improved  the  floral  decorations  by  a 
dexterous  touch  or  two,  suggested  an  alteration 
of  arrangements  to  the  maid-servants  in  charge, 
pushed  away  a  sofa  that  blocked  the  way  and 
dragged  forward  a  chair  or  two  into  useful 
prominence.  Then  she  had  a  little  confidential 
talk  to  the  director  of  the  Blue  Hungarians, 
whereby  the  programme  was  slightly  modified; 
and  all  this  had  been  achieved  so  quickly  and 
easily  that  Clifford  realized  that  a  master  mind 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  95 

was  on  the  spot,  and  that  he  need  no  longer  be 
anxious  as  to  the  success  of  his  party. 

When  the  guests  began  to  arrive,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bruhen  stood  at  his  right  hand  and  helped 
him  to  receive  them.  He  was  enlightened  in 
judicious  whispers  as  to  who  was  who,  and  in- 
structed by  a  mere  look  or  nod  as  to  the  rank 
and  precedence  of  every  new  arrival. 

They  were  not  all  ladies,  of  course — for  here 
and  there  amongst  the  gayly  attired  crowd 
could  be  seen  the  more  sombre  garb  and  broader 
forms  of  husbands  or  fathers  who  had  duly  ac- 
companied their  respective  womankind ;  but  it 
may  be  safely  affirmed  that  Mark  Clifford  was 
the  only  unmarried  and  youthful  man  present, 
so  that  it  is  needless  to  add  that  he  was  the 
cynosure  of  all  the  eyes,  bright  and  sparkling 
or  otherwise,  that  filled  his  house  that  after- 
noon. 

"So  interesting,  dear  fellow  !"  Mrs.  Ommaney 
observed,  as  she  gazed  after  him  almost  with 
maternal  affection,  through  her  gold -rimmed 
pince-nez.  "One  wonders  who  will  be  the  for- 
tunate girl  of  his  choice!" 

"He  can't  marry  at  all  for  three  years,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Bruhen,  dryly;  "that's  one  com- 
fort for  him,  poor  man !" 

"Very   true,   my,  dear,"  retorted   Mrs.   Om- 


96  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

maney  sweetly;  "but  there  is  nothing  at  all  to 
prevent  his  being  engaged.  There  is  nothing 
that  keeps  a  young  man  steadier,  and  I  may 
add  happier,  than  an  engagement  to  a  clever 
and  charming  girl.  Don't  you  agree  with  me, 
Mrs.  Leroy?"  turning  to  a  lady  by  her  eide  who 
was  also  the  mother  of  a  marriageable  daughter. 

Mrs.  Leroy  agreed  entirely,  and  her  thoughts 
flew  to  her  own  Louisa,  whilst  Mrs.  Ommaney's 
remained  confidently  fixed  upon  Maud. 

Maud  at  least,  she  reflected,  had  had  the  start 
of  these  other  girls  who  were  grouped  in  shoals 
about  him ;  and  it  gave  her  a  warm  glow  of  sat- 
isfaction when  she  observed  through  the  open 
door  of  the  tea-room  beyond  that  Mr.  Clifford 
was  at  that  moment  engaged  in  dropping  a  lump 
of  sugar  into  Maud's  tea-cup. 

For  the  next  few  minutes  he  appeared  to  be 
conversing  with  her,  and  Mrs.  Ommaney's  heart 
beat  high  with  triumph ;  for  what  opportunities 
for  tender  words  might  there  not  lurk  in  a  lump 
of  loaf  sugar  at  twopence  halfpenny  a  pound ! 
Her  riotous  imagination  conjured  up  all  sorts 
of  delightful  things  her  would-be  son-in-law 
might  be  saying  to  her  child,  for  the  distance 
was  of  course  too  great  for  her  to  hear  their 
conversation.  "Sweets  to  the  sweet,"  he 
might  possibly  be  saying,  as  he  dropped  the 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  97 

succulent  particle  into  the  dear  girl's  cup,  or 
perhaps  he  was  assuring  her  that  it  was  a  joy 
and  a  delight  to  him  to  wait  upon  her — a  pure 
rapture  to  do  her  the  very  slightest  service  !— 
perhaps — Ah!  That  woman  again!  And  her 
happy  thoughts  were  rudely  broken  up  into  a 
helpless  rage,  as  from  some  far-away  corner  she 
saw  Mrs.  Bruhen  swoop  suddenly  forward  and 
pounce  upon  Clifford,  and  after  some  few  words 
exchanged  between  them  he  accompanied  her 
back  into  the  hall,  leaving  the  disconsolate 
Maud  to  finish  her  tea  in'solitude. 

"Such  outrageous  proceedings  must  surely 
bring  their  own  punishment!"  sputtered  Mrs. 
Ommaney,  furiously.  "How  can  any  modest 
girl,  I  ask,  have  a  fair  chance,  with  such  a  hussy 
as  that  woman  running  after  the  man?" 

Mrs.  Leroy  agreed  that  Mrs.  Bruhen  was  a 
hussy;  but  as  it  had  not  been  her  own  daughter 
who  was  deserted  for  her,  she  bore  the  incident 
with  equanimity  not  unmingled  with  secret 
pleasure. 

Mrs.  Leroy  would  have  been  very  glad,  cer- 
tainly, to  see  Mr.  Clifford  of  Esselton  safely 
and  satisfactorily  engaged  to  be  married,  but 
not  to  Maud  Ommaney.  No,  he  might  easily 
do  better  for  himself  than  that! 

It  was  at  this  moment  when  Clifford  was 


98  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

making  his  way  back  to  tho  large  hall  in  obe- 
dience to  Mrs.  Bruhen's  suggestion  that  he 
should  go  and  make  himself  agreeable  for  a 
few  moments  to  the  old  Countess  of  Bayford, 
who  in  spite  of  her  eighty  years  was  still  the 
greatest  and  most  respected  lady  in  tho  county, 
*hat,  looking  across  the  sea  of  plumed  hats 
and  jewel-studded  toques,  he  perceived  a  new 
and  late  arrival  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall. 
Docker  was  just  ushering  in  a  slender  young 
lady  in  a  serge  costume,  who  wore  a  sailor  hat 
trimmed  simply  with  a  scarlet  ribbon. 

Mrs.  Bruhen  lifted  her  long  tortoise  shell 
handled  eyeglasses. 

"Who  on  earth  can  this  be?"  she  murmured. 

The  noise  in  the  hall  was  so  great  that  the 
name  announced  was  inaudible.  Several  wom- 
en turned  their  heads  and  stnred,  but  nobody 
took  the  faintest  notice  of  the  newcomer. 

Clifford  made  no  answer,  but  he  quickened 
his  pace. 

"Be  careful,  Mr.  Clifford,"  said  Nora,  below 
her  voice  to  him.  "It  must  be  some  outsider 
trying  to  force  her  way  in  uninvited.  I  never 
saw  the  girl  in  my  life.  I  have  no  doubt  she  is 
one  of  those  women  who  send  garbled  accounts 
of  fashionable  gatherings  to  the  society  papers. 
I  am  told  these  creatures  push  their  way  ia 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  99 

everywhere,  trusting  to  be  overlooked  in  the 
crowd.  Tell  Docker  to  find  out  who  she  is;  I 
don't  suppose  she  has  the  faintest  right  to  be 
here.  I  wouldn't  speak  to  her  myself,  if  I  were 
you." 

But  for  once  Clifford  disregarded  his  fair 
monitor's  advice. 

"Oh,  I  know  quite  well  who  she  is,"  he  replied ; 
"she  has  a  perfect  right  to  be  here,  because  I 
invited  her  to  come."  And  leaving  the  discon- 
certed Nora  to  her  own  devices  he  shouldered 
his  way  quickly  through  the  throng. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  astonishing  to 
Chris  than  her  reception  at  Clifford's  party. 
To  see  the  master  of  the  house  coming  forward 
with  outstretched  hand  to  welcome  her,  almost 
took  away  her  breath.  She  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve her  eyes  that  he  actually  recognized  her, 
for  he  had  only  seen  her  once,  and  that  through 
a  window  over  a  muslin  blind;  and  yet  he 
seemed  to  know  her  perfectly. 

"I  am  so  very  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  and 
his  shining  eyes  betrayed  the  absolute  sincerity 
of  the  words. 

"I  have  come  to  make  Miss  Ashley's  apolo- 
gies," said  Chris,  beginning  to  rehearse  the 
speech  of  which  she  had  composed  every  word 
by  the  way;  but  though  she  spoke  it  quite  cor- 


ioo  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

rectly,  she  was  rather  surprised  to  find  that  her 
voice  was  by  no  means  steady.  "She  is  so  ex- 
ceedingly sorry  that  she  is  unable  to  come  to- 
day, as  she  is  confined  to  her  bed  by  a  severe 
cold;  she  had  quite  hoped— 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Clifford  heart- 
lessly, for  naturally  he  didn't  care  a  button 
about  Miss  Ashley's  cold.  The  messenger  was 
determined  to  finish  her  speech. 

"So  she  sent  me  in  her  place — I  am  'party,' 
you  know." 

"You  are— I  beg  your  pardon?" 

"Party.  The  'party'  mentioned  on  your 
card,"  replied  the  young  lady  with  the  utmost 
gravity  on  her  lips,  but  with  her  dark  eyes 
dancing  with  fun.  Mark's  eyes  caught  the 
gleam  and  began  to  dance  too. 

He  laughed.  "Oh,  I  understand!  it  was  very 
rude  of  me  to  call  you  that,  but,  you  see,  I 
didn't  know  your  name— I  don't  know  it  now." 

After  a  moment  of  hesitation  given  up  to  a 
rapid  mental  debate  as  to  whether  it  was  worth 
while  to  falsify  her  Christian  name  as  well  as 
her  surname,  she  answered  the  question. 

"My  name  is  Christina  Pratt." 

"Well,  Miss  Christina  Pratt,  allow  me  to  get 
you  some  tea  now  that  you  are  here,"  and 
utterly  regardless  of  the  curious  eyos  that  were 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  101 

by  now  fiyed  upon  the  couple,  totally  oblivious, 
too,  of  that  aged  countess  at  whose  side  it  was 
his  duty  to  present  himself,  Mr.  Clifford  offered 
his  arm  to  this  strange  and  unknown  young 
lady,  and  conveyed  her  through  the  crowded 
hall  into  the  tea-room  beyond. 

"You  have  not  half  heard  Miss  Ashley's  mes- 
sage, Mr.  Clifford,"  said  Chris  as  they  went. 
She  was  quite  undaunted  by  the  curious  glances 
that  assailed  her  from  every  side,  and  by  the 
conspicuous  position  she  occupied. 

"Having  got  you  here,  I  confess  that  I  am  not 
deeply  concerned  about  Miss  Ashley's  cold," 
admitted  Mr.  Clifford,  smiling. 

"All  the  same  I  am  bound  to  deliver  her  mes- 
sage in  its  entirety,  if  you  will  allow  me  to 
speak.  Miss  Ashley  wants  you  to  come  and 
see  her." 

"What?  when?  you  told  me  she  was  in  bed!" 

"But  she  won't  be  in  bed  forever!  she  in- 
tends to  nurse  herself  up  all  to-morrow,  so  as 
to  be  able  to  come  downstairs  on  Monday,  and 
I  am  to  get  you  to  promise  that  you  will  come 
to  tea  with  us  on  Monday  afternoon." 

"With  us?  are  you  Miss  Ashley's  sister,  may 
! ask?" 

"Oh,  dear  no!" 

"Or  her  niece?  her  cousin,  perhaps?" 


IO2  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"I  am  no  relation  whatever  to  Miss  Ashley, 
lam  the  shop  girl." 

"The— the  what?— but  you  are  a  lady !"  His 
dismay  was  so  palpable  that  Chris  laughed 
merrily. 

"Don't  look  so  horrified!  Well,  yes,  I  hope 
that  I  am  a  lady,  but  that  does  not  prevent  my 
being  a  shop  girl  also.  Miss  Ashley  wraps  it 
up  very  prettily  by  calling  me  her  'secretary.' 
It  is  very  kind  of  her,  but  it  doesn't  alter  the 
fact  that  I  stand  in  the  shop  and  attend  to  cus- 
tomers, and  make  out  bills  and  tie  up  parcels. 
I  do  the  last  very  badly  indeed;  in  fact  I  am 
physically  incapable  of  tying  up  a  parcel— so 
that  it  shall  remain  tied  up,  that  is — the  paper 
invariably  comes  off  in  the  purchaser's  hands 
before  he  has  reached  the  other  side  of  the 
street.  Can  you  teach  me  how  to  tie  up  a  par- 
cel?" and  as  she  asked  the  question  Chris 
looked  very  straight  indeed  into  her  host's  face. 

"I  should  like  to  teach  you  a  great  many 
things,  Miss  Pratt,  but  I  am  afraid  I  have  no 
experience  in  tying  up  parcels." 

*vThen  you  were  never  in  a  shop?" 

*'I?  good  gracious,  no!  But  why  do  you  ask?" 
he  added  quickly,  with  a  quick  glance  of  sus- 
picion. Somehow  that  question  of  hers  struck 
oddly  upon  his  self-consciousness.  It  seemed 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  103 

to  him  all  at  once  as  though  this  Miss  Pratt  had 
some  double  meaning  in  her  words. 

She  replied  with  a  careless  indifference  which 
he  could  not  help  fancying  was  assumed. 

"Oh,  it's  only  that  some  one  told  me  that  but 
a  very  short  time  ago  you  were  a  poor  man 
obliged  to  work  for  your  living." 

"That  is  perfectly  true.  I  worked,  but  not  in 
a  shop.  I  wrote  for  newspapers.  Do  you?"  he 
added,  and  a  swift  recollection  of  Mrs.  Bruhen's 
theories  concerning  her  made  him  put  the  ques- 
tion a  little  sharply. 

"Write  for  newspapers?"  cried  the  girl 
merrily.  "No,  indeed.  I  wish  I  did!  I  am 
not  half  clever  enough  to  do  that!" 

"It  doesn't  require  much  talent,"  murmured 
Clifford  in  an  altered  voice,  for  he  felt  ashamed 
of  himself  for  having  suspected  her — Mrs. 
Bruhen  was  so  evidently  mistaken. 

"Well,  are  you  coming  on  Monday?"  per- 
sisted Miss  Pratt.  "Now,  I  have  finished  my 
tea,  you  will  have  to  return  to  your  other 
guests,  and  I  may  not  have  another  opportunity 
of  speaking  to  you,  so  I  should  like  an  answer." 

"About  coming  to  tea?  well,  you  say  that 
Miss  Ashley  will  keep  to  her  bed  all  to-mor- 
row?" 

"Yes,  poor  thing,  her  cold  is  dreadful." 


104  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"And  whai  will  you  do?" 

"Oh,  I  of  course  shall  have  to  stop  at  home 
and  look  after  her." 

"But  the  servants  ought  to  do  that." 

"There  is  only  one  servant,  and  it's  her  'Sun- 
day out!'  " 

"I  see,"  said  Mr.  Clifford  slowly;  then  he 
looked  round  and  beheld  Mrs.  Bruhen  with  re- 
proach and  wonderment  in  her  eyes,  bearing 
down  upon  them— she  was  come,  he  felt  sure, 
to  recall  him  to  a  sense  of  his  duty.  He  bent 
his  head  a  little,  and  uttered  two  rapid  words 
in  a  lowered  voice  in  Miss  Pratt 's  ear:  KA11 
right." 

After  which  he  fled,  and  met  Mrs.  Bruhen  and 
her  reproaches  halfway,  leaving  Miss  Pratt  to 
digest  her  cake  and  his  somewhat  enigmatic 
answer  in  solitude. 

After  a  time  when  the  company  was  begin- 
ning to  disperse,  Clifford  came  back  again  to 
look  for  her,  but  Miss  Pratt  was  nowhere  to  be 
found;  she  had  evidently  gone  away. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  105 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ON  the  following  day,  which  was  Sunday,  it 
poured  from  morning  till  night. 

A  wet  Sunday  is  one  of  the  most  distressing 
dispensations  that  the  weather  clerk  has  it  in 
his  power  to  inflict  upon  the  long -suffering 
British  nation. 

Oldcastle  High  Street  was  a  river  of  mud  and 
slush.  Nobody  who  could  help  it  stirred  out  of 
doors.  For  a  brief  space  indeed,  during  the 
morning  hours,  a  few  undaunted  church-goers 
pattered  past  the  windows  under  waterproofs 
and  dripping  umbrellas,  looking  the  picture  of 
misery;  by-and-by  they  came  back  again  and 
dispersed  to  their  respective  homes  with  fixed 
intentions  in  their  religious  souls  to  stir  no 
more  from  their  own  firesides. 

Miss  Ashley  kept  close  under  the  sheets;  it 
would  be  madness,  she  told  her  "secretary,"  to 
get  up  on  such  a  day.  And  Miss  Pratt  agreed, 
and  recommended  her  not  to  move. 

Misi  Ashley  had  questioned  her  narrowly 
with  regard  to  yesterday's  proceedings,  more 


106  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

especially  in  connection  with  her  own  messages 
to  the  host. 

"You  told  him  what  I  said,  Miss  Pratt?" 

"Word  for  word,  Miss  Ashley." 

"That  I  was  kept  in  my  bed  with  a  severe 
cold?  and  that  I  hoped  he  would  come  and  have 
tea  with  me  to-morrow,  when  I  should  cer- 
tainly be  downstairs?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Ashley." 

"And  he  promised  to  come?" 

Miss  Pratt  hesitated.  She  really  was  not  at 
all  certain  that  he  had  so  promised;  his  last 
words  had  been  somewhat  puzzling. 

"Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "I  am  under  the  im- 
pression that  he  consented." 

"1  am  afraid  you  cannot  have  made  it  "quite 
clear  to  him;  doubtless  you  were  nervous." 

"No,  really,  I  was  not." 

"Well,  I  can  hardly  believe  that  you  were  not 
a  little  flustered,  if,  as  you  say,  Mr.  Clifford 
actually  took  you  himself  into  the  tea-room  to 
get  you  some  tea.  It  was  most  kind  and  con- 
descending of  him  to  take  so  much  notice  of 
you,  but  it  was  meant  as  a  compliment  to  me, 
no  doubt." 
"I  expect  it  was." 

"And  it  gave  you  a  wonderful  opportunity  of 
saying  what  I  desired  you  to  say  to  him." 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  107 

"It  did." 

"And  you  think  he  means  to  come,  then?"  she 
asked  for  the  twentieth  time  at  least.  "Tell 
me  exactly  what  he  actually  said?  what  words 
did  he  make  use  of?" 

Miss  Pratt  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment  and 
then  she  replied:  "Well,  he  only  used  two 
words,  but  they  were  'All  right.' 

"Oh!  decidedly;  that  leaves  no  sort  of  doubt 
whatever !  Of  course  he  is  coming,"  replied  the 
invalid  with  satisfaction.  Presently  she  spoke 
again:  "Miss  Pr,att,  I  wonder  whether  you 
would  mind  doing  something  for  me?" 

"Certainly,  Miss  Ashley;  what  is  it?  your 
medicine?  or  a  cup  of  tea?  or  can  I  read  to 
you?"  Chris  sprung  from  her  chair  with 
alacrity,  and  was  standing  now  by  the  bed. 

"No,  no,  my  dear,  nothing  of  that  kind;  I 
only  want  to  ask  you  to  do  something  to  please 
me  to-morrow.  It  is  only — would  you  mind 
going  out  for  the  afternoon?  I  will  give  you  a 
half -holiday ;  Susan  will  be  in  to  get  the  tea— 
and— and — 

"And  you  think  you  would  like  to  enjoy  the 
great  man's  society  all  to  yourself!"  said  Miss 
Pratt  with  a  queer  little  laugh. 

Miss  Ashley  reddened.  "You  are  a  very 
sensible  girl,  I  am  sure,  Miss  Pratt,  and  you 


?o8  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

must  see  that  Mr.  Clifford  must  have  many 
subjects  in  common  with  me  which  he  would 
not  care  to  discuss  before  a  stranger." 

Miss  Pratt  looked  at  her  employer  silently 
with  a  little  smile  upon  her  lips. 

"How  small  and  mean  and  jealous  the  world 
is!"  she  said  to  herself.  And  for  the  moment 
Chris  quite  forgot  that  her  own  motives  were 
not  particularly  high  or  noble!  She  despised 
poor  Miss  Ashley  very  much,  but  she  agreed  to 
her  suggestion  sweetly  and  dutifully,  because 
she  knew  very  well  that  to  be  out  when  Clifford 
came  would  but  fan  the  nascent  flame  of  his 
dawning  interest  in  her,  and  cause  him  to  seek 
her  out  with  greater  ardor.  For  she  knew 
that  her  beauty  had  already  begun  to  do  its 
work. 

Things,  however,  fell  out  a  little  differently 
to  what  these  two  ladies  expected.  After 
Susan  had  taken  away  the  tray  from  her  mis- 
tress's room  and  had  cleared  away  the  secre- 
tary's modest  dinner,  she  arrayed  herself  in 
her  Sunday  best  and  went  off,  regardless  of  the 
rain,  to  meet  her  young  man  at  the  house  of  a 
mutual  friend.  This,  Susan  called  going  to 
afternoon  service. 

Mis3  Ashley,  then  declaring  that  her  head 
aohel  dreadfully,  asked  Miss  Pratt  to  draw 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  109 

down  her  bedroom  blinds  and  to  leave  her  quite 
alone. 

"If  I  am  left  quite  quiet  for  the  next  three 
hours  or  so,  I  feel  sure  I  can  go  to  sleep,  and 
that  will  do  me  a  lot  of  good.  I  must  be  fit  to 
be  seen  by  to-morrow,  you  see!" 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  Miss  Pratt,  and  she  drew 
down  the  blinds  as  she  was  told,  and  left  the 
room.  Miss  Ashley  made  a  mental  reflection 
that  her  secretary  had  a  most  irritating  habit  of 
always  echoing  her  words,  and  of  replying  in 
monosyllables. 

"She  is  horribly  unsympathetic,  and  very 
curt  in  her  manner,  poor  thing,"  she  thought; 
"bmt  of  course  I  can  hardly  send  her  away  on 
that  account." 

Chris  went  downstairs,  and  picking  out  a 
book  from  the  upper  shelf  of  an  old  mahogany 
bookcase,  drew  the  most  comfortable  armchair 
in  front  of  the  sitting-room  fire,  and  settled 
hersetf  in  it  with  her  toes  on  the  fender,  resign- 
ing herself  to  the  double  enjoyment  of  a  soli- 
tary afternoon. 

The  book  was  not  a  very  interesting  one, 
being  an  antiquated  novel,  written  some  forty 
years  ago;  it  was  full  of  stilted  sentiments  and 
high-flown  descriptions  of  men  and  manners; 
there  was  the  stereotyped  beautiful  and  vir- 


1 10  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

tuous  heroine,  and  the  wicked  earl  bent  upon 
sinister  designs  against  her,  and  there  was  also 
a  fearful  prig  of  a  goody-goody  hero  who  always 
turned  up  miraculously  in  time  to  rescue  her 
from  the  horrible  pitfalls  into  which  the  villain 
was  perpetually  enticing  her.  For  a  little 
while  the  book  was  rather  amusing  to  Chris.  It 
was  new  to  her  and  it  made  her  laugh ;  but  a 
little  of  this  style  of  literature  goes  a  long  way, 
and  presently  she  began  to  be  horribly  bored ; 
the  book  lay  unheeded  upon  her  lap,  and  she 
began  thinking  out  her  own  thoughts,  which 
were  vastly  more  interesting  to  her. 

Naturally  they  dwelt  a  good  deal  upon  Mark 
Clifford  and  Esselton  Hall,  and  all  sorts  of 
crude  and  half-formed  plans  and  projects  suc- 
ceeded one  another  through  her  active  brain. 
Nothing  at  present  was  very  clear  to  her,  save 
the  fact  that  she  intended  to  make  a  fool  of 
him  to  his  own  ruin,  and  that  she  felt  she  had 
already  taken  one  step  in  advance  in  pursuance 
of  this  course  of  action.  She  would  cajole  him 
to  his  perdition  and  then  she  would  crush  him 
remorselessly  under  her  triumphant  foot.  She 
did  not  pursue  his  ultimate  fate  any  further, 
because  really  it  was  quite  immaterial  to  her 
what  became  of  him  eventually,  she  was  quite 
certain  about  this;  in  point  of  fact  she  empha- 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  1 1 1 

sized  her  certainty  by  making  the  remark  aloud, 
and  adding  very  decidedly :  "Why  should  1  care 
what  becomes  of  him?  Why  should  I?"  And 
an  odd  little  frown  gathered  itself  between  her 
eyebrows  as  she  repeated  the  words.  And  the 
reason  she  frowned,  if  the  whole  truth  must  be 
told,  was  because  she  had  not  been  able  to  get 
Clifford's  interesting  face  and  Clifford's  admir- 
ing eyes  out  of  her  head  ever  since  yesterday 
afternoon.  At  every  waking  moment  she  had 
thought  at  out  him,  and  when  she  had  been 
asleep  she  had  dreamed  of  him;  and  what 
angered  and  annoyed  her  beyond  conception 
was  the  fact  that  it  was  not  as  an  enemy,  an 
impediment,  a  dupe,  or  a  tool  that  her  thoughts 
had  thus  dwelt  upon  him,  but  as  a  man,  a  per- 
sonality, a  something  attractive  to  herself,  that 
she  had  never  before  encountered. 

All  the  time  that  she  was  trying  to  plan  out 
in  what  way  she  meant  to  befool  and  outreach 
him,  her  mind  kept  slipping  away  into  totally 
different  grooves  of  thought.  What  curious 
and  puzzling  things  lay  in  the  clear  depths  of 
his  brown  eyes !  and  how  interesting  it  would 
be  to  discover  all  their  meanings,  and  what  a 
delightful  smile  had  played  about  his  lips 
whilst  he  had  been  talking  to  her.  But  this 
line  of  thought  was,  of  course,  rank,  sheer  fool- 


1 1 2  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

ishness!  She  pulled  herself  up  sharply,  and 
reminded  herself  seriously  and  admonishingly 
that  she  was  "a  woman  with  an  object,"  she 
even  put  capital  letters  to  it,  and  "Woman" 
and  "Object"  became  for  the  moment  words  of 
the  solemnest  gravity,  so  that  it  was  doubly  an- 
noying to  her  to  find  herself  sinking  back  again 
and  again  into  puerile  reflections  concerning  the 
length  of  his  eyelashes  and  the  shape  of  his 
nose!  Her  last  descent  into  imbecility  as  she 
sat  and  gazed  into  the  dying  embers  of  the  fire 
took  the  form  of  a  murmured  remark  which 
was  actually  uttered  aloud. 

"I  wonder  what  the  mouth  that  is  hidden  by 
that  auburn  mustache  is  like!"  and  then  she 
started  violently  and  looked  round.  A  shadow 
had  crossed  the  diamond-paned  lattice  window, 
and  a  second  later  a  very  soft  tap  at  the  brass 
knocker  made  her  spring  to  her  feet  with  a 
beating  heart  and  trembling  nerves.  Then  she 
chided  herself  laughingly,  as  she  went  to  open 
the  door,  which  as  Susan  was  out,  it  was  her 
manifest  place  to  do. 

"What  a  fool  I  am!  of  course  it's  the  milk! 
Nobody  else  but  the  milkman  ever  comes  to  the 
door  on  a  Sunday  afternoon!" 

But  it  was  not  the  milkman. 

Outside,  a  man  in  a  long  mackintosh  coat  and 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  113 

a  pot  hat  stood  on  the  door- step.  He  had  no 
umbrella,  and  the  rain  dripped  freely  off  the 
brim  of  his  hat  and  ran  in  streams  over  his  wet 
shoulders. 

Miss  Pratt  opened  the  door  a  little  way  and 
then  with  an  affectation  of  intense  surprise  in 
her  dark  eyes,  she  slowly  opened  it  wider  and 
the  visitor  came  inside  the  hall. 

"Oh!"  said  Miss  Pratt  slowly,  "I  did  not  ex- 
pect you  to-day!" 

"I  know;  that's  why  I  came." 

"You  are  dreadfully  wet,"  she  observed  a 
little  feebly,  not  knowing  quite  what  to  say. 
Clifford  proceeded  to  divest  himself  of  his  mack- 
intosh and  hat  and  to  hang  them  up  in  the  little 
hall.  She  watched  him  silently;  there  were 
drops  of  rain  on  his  cheek  and  on  the  fringe  of 
his  mustache;  somehow  she  took  in  all  these 
little  details  in  a  way  that  she  had  never  done 
when  she  had  looked  at  other  men.  She  always 
afterwards  remembered  the  rain  on  his  face 
and  how  he  brushed  it  away  with  his  handker- 
chief whilst  he  looked  at  her  over  it  with  eyes  in 
which  the  mischief  of  a  naughty  schoolboy  was 
oddly  mixed  up  with  the  admiration  of  a  man. 

"Miss  Ashley  is  in  bed  to-day, "she  remarked 
demurely. 

"That  is  just  why  I  came,"  he  replied,  and  in- 


ii4  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

stinctively  they  both  spoke  in  whispers.  There 
was  evidently  no  use  in  arguing  the  situation. 
Chris  turned  and  led  the  way  into  the  parlor; 
Clifford  followed  her  and  shut  the  door  softly 
behind  him ;  they  both  stepped  warily,  on  the 
tips  of  their  toes. 

"Miss  Ashley  has  a  headache;  she  is  trying 
to  get  a  little  sleep,  poor  thing,"  said  Chris, 
as  she  drew  a  second  chair  forward  to  the  fire. 
"Poor  lady,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  wake  her," 
said  Clifford  compassionately,  and  their  eyes 
met — met,  and  fell  apart  swiftly,  almost  guilt- 
ily, and  then  they  both  looked  at  each  other 
and  began  to  laugh.    After  which,  there  was  no 
longer  any  embarrassment  at  all  in  the  situa- 
tion, only  a  delightful  sense  of  novelty  to  both. 
"It  feels  quite  wrong,  you  know,"  said  Chris. 
"That  is  why  it  feels  so  nice,"  replied  Mark, 
who  really  found  no  difficulty  at  all  in  saying 
the  right  thing  to  this  lovely  young  lady. 

"It  was  to-morrow  that  you  were  invited  to 
come." 

"Well,  to-morrow  I  shall  very  likely  come 
also— why  not?" 

"Why  not,  indeed!    Miss  Ashley  will  be  up 
and  delighted  to  see  you." 

"And  you,  Miss  Pratt?  will  you  be  delighted 
to  see  me  too?" 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  1 1 5 

k'No— I  can't  say  that,  because  I  shall  not  see 
you." 

"Why  on  earth  not?" 

"Because  I  shall  not  be  here.  Miss  Ashley 
has  bidden  me  take  an  afternoon's  holiday." 

"Where  are  you  going?  up  to  London?" 

"Oh,  no." 

"To  see  friends?" 

"No;  I  have  no  friends  here.'7 

"Then  what  on  earth  are  you  going  to  do 
with  yourself?" 

"I  haven't  settled — I  shall  go  for  a  walk,  I 
daresay." 

"But  suppose  it  rains  like  to-day,  then  you 
can't  go  out." 

"Well,  I  expect  I  shall  go  out,  wet  or  fine; 
you  see,  I  am  not  wanted  here;  it  won't  kill  me 
to  walk  in  the  rain.  I've  done  worse  things 
than  that  in  my  life." 

Mark  was  silent  for  a  few  moments ;  all  sorts 
of  plans  were  whirling  about  in  his  mind,  all 
more  or  less  impracticable. 

"Have  you  ever  been  in  the  fir  grove  in  my 
park?" 

Then  Chris  was  silent;  the  last  two  words, 
"my  park,"  seemed  to  awaken  her  from  a 
trance;  she  shivered  a  little  and  drew  herself 
up. 


1 16  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"I  am  not  intimately  acquainted  with  'your 
park,'  Mr.  Clifford,"  she  said  coldly. 

"Well,  I  hope  you  will  soon  know  it  better," 
he  replied,  quite  unconscious  of  the  secret  ani- 
mosity she  was  experiencing.  "If  you  turn  to 
the  left  directly  you  get  inside  the  lodge  gates 
and  walk  about  fifty  yards  down  the  drive,  you 
will  see  a  pathway  leading  down  towards  the 
dip  of  the  ground;  then  you  will  come  to  a 
gate,  and,  passing  through  that,  to  a  thick  grove 
of  fir-trees — it  is  always  dry  and  sheltered  along 
that  path,  for  the  trees  are  old  and  their  thick 
boughs  overlap  each  other  on  either  side — and 
after  a  little  way  you  will  come  to  a  summer- 
house  where,  if  the  rain  should  be  very  heavy, 
you  can  take  shelter.  If  you  find  you  must  go 
out  to-morrow,  I  wish  you  would  go  and  ex- 
plore that  walk,  Miss  Pratt." 

Miss  Pratt  sat  looking  straight  before  her 
into  the  fire  and  made  no  answer.  Clifford  sat 
and  watched  her  with  a  curious  sense  of  excite- 
ment in  his  mind.  How  perfect  was  the  profile 
outlined  against  the  gathering  gloom  of  the 
room,  how  graceful  the  pose  of  her  figure  as  she 
leaned  a  little  forward  in  her  chair,  and  how 
daintily  the  small  head  was  set  upon  the  slender 
white  throat!  Who  and  what,  he  wondered, 
was  this  exquisite  creature  who  looked  born  to 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  1 17 

be  a  duchess,  and  yet  whom  he  had  discovered  in 
so  very  humble  a  position  of  life;  what  was  her 
origin?  who  were  her  people  and  belongings? 
why  had  she  suddenly  dropped  into  his  life? 

Then  he  pulled  himself  up  sharply.  Could  it 
be  possible  that  he  was  failing  in  love  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life?  He  had  no  right  to  fall  in  love 
at  all — not  for  three  whole  years  at  least,  which 
really  at  twenty-five  seems  almost  a  lifetime. 
"Not  to  marry!  not  to  marry!"  he  repeated 
dully  to  himself,  over  and  over  again,  as  he  sat 
and  watched  Miss  Pratt  in  the  gloaming  fire- 
light, and  then  another  voice  cried  out  sharply 
and  shrilly  at  his  heart:  "Bub  to  love,  to  love! 
can  any  laws  on  earth  stop  a  man  from  loving!" 

Then  shyly,  tremblingly,  he  put  forth  his 
hand  and  grasped  the  little  white  fingers  that 
she  had  lifted  between  her  eyes  and  the  fire, 
and  the  hand  that  took  them  was  shaken  with 
awe  at  its  own  boldness. 

"Will  you  go  to  the  fir  grove  to-morrow? — 
will  you?"  he  murmured. 

Christina  turned  upon  him,  and  utterly  pul- 
verized him  with  that  most  beautiful  and  bril- 
liant smile  of  hers  which  seemed  to  require  no 
spoken  word.  Then  an  upstair  bell  rang 
violently;  Miss  Pratt  rose  quickly,  and  a  mo- 
ment later  the  visitor  was  gone, 


Ti8  The  C'ra/.c  of  Christina. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Miss  ASHLEY'S  cold  was  very  much  better  on 
Monday  morning.  She  came  downstairs  in  time 
for  the  midday  dinner,  and  her  secretary  noted 
with  some  amusement  that  she  wore  her  best 
Sunday  gown  of  shot  silk.  Miss  Pratt  was  in 
the  shop,  where  she  had  been  attending  to  a 
customer,  when  she  overheard  her  employer 
giving  sundry  orders  to  Susan  in  the  back 
premises.  There  were  to  be  muffins  for  tea  and 
a  chocolate  cake  from  the  confectioner's; 
cream  also  was  to  be  added  to  the  feast,  and 
half  a  pound  of  high-priced  tea  was  to  be  pur- 
chased from  the  grocer's. 

Then  the  rustle  of  the  shot  silk  was  heard  at 
the  door  that  led  from  the  shop  into  the  cot- 
tage, and  Miss  Ashley  summoned  her  assistant 
to  the  parlor. 

They  sat  down  opposite  one  another  with  some 
slices  of  cold  mutton  between  them. 

"It  is  a  very  nice  afternoon  for  you,  Miss 
Pratt,  "remarked  Miss  Ashley  graciously;  "you 
will  enjoy  your  holiday." 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  119 

It  was  not  a  nice  afternoon  at  all,  being  raw 
and  mist;  it  did  not  actually  rain,  and  that  was 
all  that  could  be  said  about  it. 

"I  shall  not  want  you  after  four  o'clock;  you 
can  go  out  then.  I  can  attend  to  the  shop  very 
well  by  myself." 

"When  am  I  to  come  in  again?" 

Miss  Ashley  considered. 

"Oh — about  six  o'clock — half -past  would  be 
quite  safe,  I  think." 

"You  mean  that  Mr.  Clifford  will  have  gone 
by  then?"  inquired  the  secretary  with  a  brutal 
frankness. 

Miss  Ashley  glanced  at  her  rather  vindic- 
tively. "I  don't  think  I  shall  keep  her,"  she 
thought;  "she  puts  things  so  very  indelicately, 
she  has  no  nice  tact  about  her.  Besides  which, 
she  is  really  too  good-looking!"  Aloud,  she 
daiJ:  "I  was  only  thinking  you  would  like  a 
nice  long  time  to  yourself,  Miss  Pratt." 

"Thank  you  so  much.  Am  I  to  have  no 
tea?" 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  would  be  having  tea 
with  friends." 

"I  have  no  friends  here." 

"Oh,  well,  you  can  have  some  tea  when  you 
come  in,  you  know.  Susan  can  make  you  some 
fresh." 


i2o  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Thanks,"  said  Miss  Pratt  dryly,  but  she 
knew  quite  well  that  the  "best"  tea  would  not 
be  brewed  again  for  her,  and  that  the  chocolate 
cake  would  be  safely  locked  away  in  the  cup- 
board. And  she  could  not  help  chuckling  to 
herself  out  of  the  depths  of  her  own  more  per- 
fect foreknowledge  as  to  the  probable  course  of 
events. 

Miss  Ashley  was  a  littlo  fidgety  till  her  secre- 
tary was  well  out  of  the  way.  She  offered  to 
lend  her  the  bicycle  again,  but  Miss  Pratt  said 
the  roads  were  too  muddy  from  yesterday's 
rain,  and  declined  tho  offer. 

However,  by  four  o'clock  Miss  Ashley  saw 
Chris  safely  off  out  of  the  house,  and  felt  that 
she  no\v  had  the  field  entirely  to  herself.  She 
had  been  very  ready  to  use  the  handsome  girl 
as  an  attraction,  but  eho  had  no  desire  to  share 
the  triumph  of  entertaining  tho  owner  of  Essel- 
ton  with  any  one  else,  especially  with  a  person 
who  was  so  very  likely  to  throw  herself  into  the 
shade  altogether. 

To  do  her  justice,  Miss  Ashley  <lid  not  look 
upon  her  expected  guest  in  the  light  of  a  per- 
sonal admirer.  It  was  as  a  customer  that  she 
regarded  him,  and  a  strict  eyo  to  business  v/as 
the  only  motivo  Tvhich  actuated  her. 

When  she  was  left  alone  she  proceeded  lo 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  121 

bring  forward  all  the  different  tables  and  chairs 
which  she  thought  she  could  induce  Mr.  Clif- 
ford to  purchase.  She  put  them  into  positions 
where  they  showed  to  advantage,  and  care- 
fully dusted  and  rubbed  them  over  with  a  cham- 
ois leather.  Then  she  remembered  some 
Eastern  embroidery  for  which  she  had  foolishly 
given  a  high  price  at  a  sale  a  year  ago,  and 
which  she  had  never  been  able  to  dispose  of. 
She  got  this  out  of  a  cupboard  now  and  laid  it 
temptingly  over  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"He  shall  buy  that  in  any  case!"  she  said  to 
herself.  "1  will  make  him  have  it  even  if  he 
takes  nothing/else." 

Then  she  went  into  the  kitchen  to  see  that 
Susan  was  in  readiness  with  the  tea,  and  after 
giving  her  final  directions  with  regard  to  the 
toasting  of  the  muffins,  she  returned  into  the 
parlor  to  await  her  visitor. 

He  might  come  at  half-past  four,  she 
thought,  and  he  certainly  ought  to  arrive  by 
five.  Afternoon  tea  is  unfortunately  a  movable 
feast,  and  an  anxious  hostess  is  never  quite  cer- 
tain as  to  the  precise  moment  when  it  should 
be  brewed, 

When  half-past  five  came  and  nobody  had 
turned  up,  Miss  Ashley  rang  the  bell  and  told 
Susan  to  make  the  tea  and  cook  the  muffins. 


122  The  Craze  of  Christina, 

''Then  bring  in  the  tray  the  very  moment  you 
hear  the  door-bell,  and  I  will  go  and  open  the 
door,"  she  said. 

The  muffins  lay  till  they  were  flabby  and 
sodden  in  their  own  butter,  and  the  tea  stood 
until  the  bitterness  of  death  ate  into  its  very 
vitals,  but  still  the  guest  expected  did  not  ar- 
rive! At  twenty  minutes  to  seven  the  bell  rang 
sharply.  With  a  sudden  rekindling  gleam  of  a 
hope  that  was  well-nigh  dead,  Miss  Ashley  flew 
to  the  door,  and,  out  of  the  pitch  darkness 
without,  her  returning  secretary  stepped  jaunt- 
ily into  the  hall. 

Miss  Ashley  turned  very  white  and  staggered 
back  a  little  as  if  she  were  going  to  faint. 

"I  have  not  come  back  too  early,  I  hope?" 
said  Miss  Pratt  in  a  cheery  voice.  Her  cheeks 
were  rosy,  her  eyes  shone,  there  was  an  aggra- 
vating atmosphere  of  gayety  and  satisfaction 
about  her  as  she  came  in. 

Her  unhappy  employer  lifted  upon  her  eyes 
that  were  almost  haggard  with  despair. 

"Not  a  soul  has  been  near  me!"  she  said 
tragically  and  gloomily. 

"You  mean — that  Mr.  Clifford  has  not  come 
to  tea  with  you?" 

"He  has  not.  Miss  Pratt,  you  could  never 
have  given  him  my  message  properly!" 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  123 

"Oh,  but  indeed  I  did,  Miss  Ashley." 

"Then  he  could  not  have  answered  'All 
right!'  " 

"Oh,  but  he  did.    I  am  positive  he  did." 

"Then  why  did  he  not  come?" 

But  Miss  Pratt  only  shrugged  her  shoulders 
at  that,  and  she  smiled  her  brilliant  and  beau- 
tiful smile. 

"Perhaps  he  will  come  to-morrow  or  the  next 
day,"  she  suggested  presently,  with  an  attempt 
at  consolation. 

Miss  Ashley,  who  was  a  mild-tempered 
woman  usually,  stamped  her  foot  at  this. 

"How  am  I  to  have  cakes  and  cream  wasted 
day  after  day?  Three  muffins  and  a  cake  and 
a  potful  of  tea  brewed  for  nothing  at  all!" 

Chris  laughed  and  suggested  that  they  should 
both  set  to  work  to  eat  up  the  wasted  remains 
— she  herself  was  very  hungry,  she  said. 

So  the  two  ladies  sat  down  together  and 
drank  the  bitter  tea  and  ate  up  the  greasy 
muffins,  and  Miss  Ashley  wept  a  few  tears  over 
a  vanished  hope,  whilst  Chris  preserved  a  most 
discreet  silence  concerning  the  avocations  of 
her  own  afternoon. 

But  whilst  Miss  Ashley  lamented  and  be- 
wailed at  intervals  during  the  whole  evening, 
Chris  was  unusually  silent;  only  a  little  smile 


124  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

played  occasionally  with  a  fitful  gleam  across 
her  downcast  face.  She  was  putting  some  fresh 
ribbons  on  her  hat — out  surely  it  could  not  be 
this  most  prosaic  occupation  which  so  often 
conjured  up  that  smile  upon  her  lips  and  that 
queer  far-away  look  in  her  beautiful  eyes! 

Yet  when  she  was  alone,  safe  in  the  solitude 
of  her  tiny  bedroom  above  the  shop,  Chris 
smiled  no  longer.  On  the  contrary,  she  stamped 
angrily  up  and  down  the  limited  space  of  her 
floor  and  harangued  herself  loudly  and  persist- 
ently. 

"Fool!  fool  that  I  am!"  she  cried,  clenching 
her  fists  impotently.  "To  have  set  myself  a 
serious  task,  and  then  to  be  overcome  in  this 
childish  way  at  the  very  outset  by  a  ridiculous 
complication  which  I  had  never  for  one  moment 
countemplated,  even  in  my  very  wildest  im- 
aginings !  What  can  be  the  matter  with  me? 
What  fiend  of  perversity  has  taken  possession 
of  me?  Why  am  I  a  prey  to  these  stupid, 
idiotic  feelings  which  T  never  experienced  in  my 
whole  life  before?  That  he  should  be  in  love 
with  me — well,  of  course,  that  is  what  I  meant 
him  to  be!  but  that  I  should  fall  in  love  with 
him!  How  contemptible!  how  perfectly  mad- 
dening! But  I  won't,  I  won't!  How  is  this 
man  different  from  every  other  man,  I  should 


The  Crc)-'e  of  Christina.  125 

like  to  know?  He  has  two  eyes  and  a  nose  and 
a  mustache,  and  he  is  rather  tall  and  looks 
strong  and  manly!— and  really  that  is  abso- 
lutely all.  Why  then  did  every  nerve  of  my 
body  tingle  when  he  put  his  hand  upon  mine? 
why  does  my  heart  beat  when  I  speak  to  him? 
and  why  do  my  eyes  find  a  difficulty  in  meet- 
ing his?  It's  perfectly  sickening!  He  is  my 
father's  enemy  and  supplanter,  and  I  have 
sworn  to  win  from  him  every  penny  I  can  lay 
hands  on,  and  to  which  my  father  has  a  far 
stronger  claim  than  he  has.  Why  on  earth 
can't  I  go  on  as  I  began?  with  a  cool  head  and 
steady  nerves!  This  folly  must  be  overcome. 
Surely  no  sensible  woman  need  lose  her  head, 
as  I  very  nearly  lost  mine  to-day!  Well,  luck- 
ily, I  did  not  quite  do  so;  I  had  strength  enough 
to  refuse  to  go  inside  that  summer-house,  and 
to  keep  him  at  arm's-length  when  he  wished 
me  good-by.  By  the  way,  I  wonder — I  wonder 
what  he  means;  he  who  knows  he  must  not 
marry  for  three  years?  How  dare  he  look  love 
at  me  out  of  those  deep-set  eyes  of  his!  Such 
looks  are  nothing  short  of  an  insult  from  a  man 
in  his  position.  I  ought  to  hate  him — I  really 
will  and  must  hate  him !" 

And  at  last,  torn  by   conflicting  emotions, 
Chris  flung  herself  upon  the  bed,  where  bodily 


126  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

fatigue  and  mental  excitement  struggled  and 
fought  for  the  mastery  within  her  until  she  fell 
into  a  broken  sleep,  troubled  by  chaotic  dreams 
in  which  the  image  of  the  man  whose  ruin  she 
was  plotting  stood  ever  between  herself  and  a 
glittering  heap  of  gold  which  she  was  vainly 
straining  and  fighting  to  attain.  With  morning 
light  she  was  calmer  and  could  afford  to  laugh 
a  little  at  her  excitement  of  the  previous  even- 
ing. 

It  was  all  nonsense,  of  course,  that  she  had 
fallen  in  love  with  this  young  man!  and  she 
would  prove  it  by  not  acceding  to  any  more  re- 
quests on  his  part  as  to  future  meetings.  There 
had  been  several  and  sundry  requests  of  this 
nature;  all  sorts  of  suggestions  had  been  made, 
to  some  of  which  Chris  had  given  a  sort  of  half 
consent  when  Mr.  Clifford  had  walked  nearly 
back  into  Oldcastle  on  the  previous  evening. 
But  it  had  been  nearly  dark  and  the  road  had 
been  lonely,  and  Mr.  Clifford  had  taken  her 
hand  and  had  refused  to  give  it  up,  and  her  own 
mood  had  been  weak  and  melting,  and  alto- 
gether she  had  very  nearly  made  a  fool  of  her- 
self, she  feared!  But  by  daylight  she  was 
stronger  and  braver  and  wiser  and  she  meant  to 
be  more  sensible  in  future.  And  for  the  next 
two  days  Miss  Pratt  attended  severely  to  her 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  127 

duties  and  did  not  put  her  nose  out  of  door,  al- 
though it  may  be  presumed  that  she  received 
several  invitations  to  do  so. 

Two  letters  came  to  her  by  post,  letters  that 
she  thrust  guiltily  into  her  pocket  when  they 
arrived,  and  that  made  her  get  very  red  in  the 
face;  and  these  letters,  when  she  read  them  up- 
stairs in  the  seclusion  of  her  own  room,  seemed 
to  her  to  be  full  of  the  most  mad  and  irrational 
nonsense  that  had  ever  been  penned ;  they  were 
so  mad,  in  short,  that  Miss  Pratt  first  kissed 
them,  and  then  tore  them  into  a  hundred  pieces, 
and  she  answered  neither  of  them. 

Things,  in  short,  were  going  much  too  fast  for 
Chris,  for  she  had  never  reckoned  on  being  thus 
violently  carried  off  her  feet  and  hurried  along 
down  the  dangerous  path  on  which  she  had 
started  of  her  own  accord  with  so  much  deliber- 
ate calculation. 

She  felt  now  that  she  wanted  breathing  space 
in  order  to  turn  round  and  decide  upon  her  next 
move.  She  had  no  idea  what  would  happen 
next. 

What  happened  was  that  on  the  third  after- 
noon, about  five  o'clock,  the  bell  of  the  shop 
door  clanged  and  the  master  of  Esselton  Hall 
entered  "Ye  olde  Shoppe." 

Miss  Ashley  was  showing   some  old  brass 


128  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

boxes  to  Ada  Ommaney,  who  had  come  in  to 
buy  a  cheap  birthday  present  for  her  sister 
Maud;  she  looked  up  sharply  as  the  door 
opened,  and  gave  a  little  gasp.  Having  given  up 
all  hope,  she  had  to-day  neither  muffins  nor 
cream  for  tea!  She  threw  the  brass  boxes 
down  on  the  counter,  signed  to  Chris  to  attend 
to  Miss  Ommaney,  and  flew  forward  to  receive 
her  visitor. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  129 


CHAPTER  ,v. 

CHRIS,  by  the  mere  act  of  silence,  had  driven 
her  admirer  pretty  nearly  to  desperation.  Clif- 
ford had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  disease  of  love 
with  a  rapidity  and  a  completeness  which  were 
truly  astonishing.  He  could  neither  eat  nof 
sleep;  he  could  think  of  nothing  else, night  and 
day,  but  of  Miss  Ashley's  secretary;  nor  had 
he  the  wit  to  conceal  the  fever  that  consumed 
him  from  the  watchful  eyes  that  were  ever  upon 
him;  he  seemed  in  fact  to  be  lost  to  all  con- 
siderations of  prudence  and  of  wisdom. 

Yet  Docker  had  spoken  to  him  last  night  in  a 
manner  which  was  sufficiently  significant.  His 
scarcely  tasted  dinner  had  just  been  cleared 
away  and  Docker  was  putting  the  wine  and 
walnuts  on  the  table  before  him  when,  with 
that  introductory  "ahem"  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand  which  preluded  his  most  disagreeable 
utterances,  he  proceeded  to  give  him  a  few  se- 
rious words  of  warning. 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  to  mention  it,  Mr.  Clif- 
ford," he  said,  "but  there  have  been  most  un- 
pleasant remarks  made  to  me  to-day." 


130  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"All  right,  Docker!"  replied  his  victim  with 
an  assumption  of  indifference  he  was  very  far 
from  experiencing.  "I  am  sure  I  don't  want  to 
hear  them!" 

"Begging  your  pardon,  Mr.  Clifford,  but  it  is 
not  'all  right,'  and  also  it  is  my  solemn  duty, 
sir,  to  acquaint  you  of  what  has  been  said." 

"Fire  away,  then!" 

"It  has  reached  my  ears,  Mr.  Clifford,  as  how 
you  was  met  walking  with  a  young  woman  on 
the  Oldcastle  road  after  dark  on  Monday  last." 

"My  good  fellow" —began  the  young  man 
furiously,  turning  round  sharply  in  his  chair; 
bat  Docker  held  up  his  hand. 

"Excuse  me,  sir!  but  it's  my  duty  to  tell  you 
that  this  is  a  very  dangerous  proceeding." 

"You  are  excessively  impertinent !  How  dare 
you  listen  to  idle  tittle-tattle  about  me?" 

"It  is  not  tittle-tattle,  Mr.  Clifford,  it's  facts. 
It  was  Mr.  George  Jones  himself  as  passed  you 
on  his  way  back  from  this  very  house." 

"George  Jones  be  d— d,"  cried  Clifford 
angrily. 

"Very  possibly  he  may  be,  sir,"  replied  the 
imperturbable  Docker,  "but  that  ain't  got 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  What  I  wishes  to  ob- 
serve, sir,  is  that  if  it's  courting  you  are  after, 
Mr.  Clifford — as  I  sadly  fear,  seeing  as  how 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  131 

George  Jones  saw  the  young  lady  quite  plain; 
and  from  what  he  says  to  me  I  should  judge  her 
to  be  one  of  them  ladies  as  was  here  last  week, 
which  points  to  serious  courting  to  my  mind ; 
not  to  mention  the  fact  that  you  have  lost  your 
appetite  at  meals — in  which  case  it  becomes  my 
duty  to  give  timely  notice  to  Mr.  Scrubb  of  the 
facts  of  the  case,  so  that  the  executors  may  be 
prepared  to  see  that  my  late  master's  wishes 
are  not  disregarded." 

Clifford  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  port  with 
so  shaking  a  hand  that  a  splash  fell  upon  the 
tablecloth.  Docker  quietly  fetched  a  glass- 
cloth  from  the  sideboard  behind  him  and  care- 
fully mopped  up  the  ruby  drops.  After  which 
he  spoke  again  in  a  more  conciliatory  tone: 

"In  course,  Mr.  Clifford,  if  you  can  assure  me 
that  your  intentions  is  not  matrimonial,  and  that 
it's  only  a  bit  of  fun  on  your  part — why,  I 
knows  that  young  men  will  be  young  men,  and 
I  will  just  shut  my  eyes  and  see  nothing." 

Clifford  uttered  a  sort  of  yell  of  rage  and 
sprang  to  his  feet,  overturning  the  glass  of  port 
wine  over  the  table. 

"Get  out  of  my  sight,  you  foal-minded  brute 
— you  hound — you  cur — you — you — "  The 
sputtering  words  choked  themselves  in  his 
mouth  so  that  he  could  not  utter  them  coher- 


132  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

ently,  but  there  was  such  a  blaze  of  fury  in  his 
eyes,  and  such  a  suggestive  course  of  action  in 
his  clenched  and  uplifted  fist,  that  the  terrified 
Docker  grew  yellow  with  fear,  and  turned  and 
fled  out  of  the  room  as  fast  as  his  legs  would 
carry  him. 

Then  the  master  of  the  house,  as  he  dropped 
back  into  his  chair,  let  his  fist  fall  heavily  down 
upon  the  table  with  a  clatter  that  set  all  the 
glasses  and  spoons  and  forks  dancing,  and 
groaned  aloud. 

"What  a  miserable  man  I  am!'*  he  cried 
aloud.  "I  love  this  girl  desperately,  seriously 
—I  want  to  make  her  my  wife  if  I  can  win  her, 
and  yet — and  yet!  how  am  I  to  reduce  myself 
to  beggary !  or  how  am  I  to  hope  for  success 
when,  if  I  tell  her  of  my  love  I  must  at  the  same 
time  tell  her  that  I  am  to  be  denuded  of  the 
wealth  and  the  position  which  she  above  all 
other  women  would  adorn  so  admirably  I" 

But  after  a  sleepless  night  Clifford  conceived 
towards  morning  a  new  and  a  most  brilliant 
idea.  It  was  not  the  best  thing  he  could  think 
of  certainly,  for  the  best  would  have  been  to 
marry  Chris  right  out  of  hand  in  a  week's  time; 
but  that  apparently  was  impossible,  for  if  he 
were  to  be  no  longer  master  of  Esselton  he 
sadly  feared  that  she  would  have  nothing  more 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  133 

to  say  to  him !  But  if  he  could  only  induce  her 
to  consent  to  it,  why  should  she  not  be  engaged 
to  him  for  three  years  and  marry  him  as  soon 
as  ever  the  time  was  up?  There  was  nothing 
in  his  uncle's  will  to  prevent  a  three  years'  en- 
gagement, but  of  course  she  would  have  to  love 
him  very  much  indeed  to  consent  to  wait  for 
him  all  that  time,  and  Mark  was  afraid  that 
Miss  Pratt  could  not  possibly  care  about  him  so 
much  as  all  that. 

He  might  win  her  perhaps  by  degrees,  but  he 
was  in  such  a  fever  of  consuming  love  and  de- 
sire that  he  felt  himself  to  be  totally  incapable 
of  slow  and  gradual  methods.  He  wanted  her 
to  accept  him  now,  at  once — in  a  week's  time 
at  least.  And  then  perhaps  he  should  be  con- 
tent, for  if  she  were  but  engaged  to  him,  he 
thought  he  might  be  able  to  support  the  three 
years  of  probation  with  a  very  tolerable  amount 
of  patience.  He  had  never  been  engaged  to  be 
married  himself,  nor  had  he  ever  had  any  in- 
timate acquaintance  with  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  engaged  couples;  nevertheless  he  was 
pretty  sure  that  an  engaged  man  enjoys  certain 
delightful  privileges  with  regard  to  the  lady 
of  his  affections  from  which  other  men  are 
rigorously  debarred.  He  should,  for  instance, 
have  the  right,  the  absolute  right,  to  seek  her 


134  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

society  daily ;  he  would  probably  be  permitted 
to  take  her  out  for  walks  or  for  drives  in  his 
phaeton  openly  in  the  face  of  all  people.  Even 
Docker  could  not  possibly  object  to  this,  nor 
gather  any  infringement  of  his  uncle's  will  from 
such  legitimate  proceedings ;  and  also  (and  here 
Mr.  Clifford  shut  his  eyes  in  an  ecstasy  of  imag- 
inative bliss),  surely,  he  would  be  allowed  cer- 
tain familiarities  and  caresses  of  a  perfectly  in- 
toxicating nature.  He  should  be  able  to  pass 
his  arm  around  her  dainty  waist,  to  draw  her 
charming  figure  close  to  himself,  and — oh,  rap- 
turous heaven  of  heavens! — to  press  his  lips 
upon  hers!  not  once  or  twice,  but  often,  every 
day,  as  often  as  he  wished  in  fact — and  three 
years  of  kisses  opened  themselves  out  before 
his  eyes  in  a  long  and  bewildering  vista  of 
beatific  delight! 

He  arose  from  his  bed  determined  to  pursue 
his  suit  with  all  the  ardour  of  which  he  was 
capable.  The  morning  post  brought  him  no  an- 
swer to  his  second  letter  entreating  her  for  a 
further  interview.  Ah!  she  was  cold  and  cruel, 
regardless  of  his  suffering,  and  callous  to  his 
pain!  He  had  asked  her  to  meet  him  again 
each  day  in  the  fir  grove  at  half-past  four.  On 
the  off-chance  of  her  relenting  towards  him,  he 
took  care  to  bo  there  to-day  as  he  had  been 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  135 

yesterday  at  the  appointed  time.  But  when  he 
had  waited  in  vain  for  half  an  hour  at  the  tryst- 
ing-place,  he  realized  that  his  efforts  in  that 
direction  were  wholly  unavailing. 

There  was  now  nothing  for  it,  he  said  to  him- 
self,  but  to  beard  the  lioness  in  her  den.  The 
"lioness"  being  Miss  Ashley  and  the  "den" 
"ye  olde  shoppe."  He  walked  off  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  town  as  fast  as  he  could.  He  knew 
perfectly  well  indeed  that  this  move  would  be 
painfully  devoid  of  any  satisfactory  results,  but 
he  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  do,  and  al- 
though he  was  well  convinced  that  he  should 
see  next  to  nothing  of  Chris  herself,  yet  see  her 
he  must,  or  die !  It  was,  however,  only  what  he 
expected,  that  Miss  Ashley  should  pounce  down 
upon  him  with  outstretched  hands  the  moment 
he  entered  the  door. 

"At  last!  dear  Mr.  Clifford,  at  last  you  have 
found  me  out!"  she  cried  delightedly.  "Oh, 
you  naughty  faithless  creature!"  she  added, 
shaking  a  playful  finger  at  him.  Clifford  cast 
a  glance  at  the  back  shop  where  the  two  girls 
were  leaning  across  the  counter  together  over 
the  brass  boxes.  Miss  Ada  Ommaney  bowed 
to  him  and  he  bowed  back  again,  but  his  cruel, 
capricious  love  never  even  lifted  her  beautiful 
eyes. 


136  The  Craze  of  Christina 

"Now  you  will  have  some  tea  in  my  little 
parlor,  won't  you?"  said  Miss  Ashley.  "I  will 
have  some  prepared  in  a  very  few  minutes,  if 
you  don't  mind  waiting."  She  had  already 
signaled  to  Susan,  who  had  flown  across  to  the 
milkman  and  the  baker  after  cream  and  crum- 
pets. 

"No,  thank  you,  Miss  Ashley;  really,  I  never 
take  tea,"  stammered  this  thankless  and  unsat- 
isfactory young  man.  "I — I  only  called  in  as  I 
was  passing  to  inquire  after  you  and  after  Miss 
Pratt." 

"Oh,  how  sweet  of  you!  thank  you  so  much! 
You  see  I  am  quite  recovered  now." 

"And  Miss  Pratt?" — with  his  eyes  straying 
again  towards  the  back  shop. 

"Miss  Pratt!  oh,  Miss  Pratt  never  had  any- 
thing the  matter  with  her.  That  girl  is  made 
of  iron,"  she  added  in  a  lower  voice,  and  with  a 
tinge  of  contempt  in  the  remark. 

*'Yes,  of  ice — you  are  right!"  echoed  Clifford 
dolefully;  he  had  only  half  heard  her  words. 

Miss  Ashley  glanced  at  him  sharply;  she 
thought  him  slightly  deaf,  and  her  next  remark 
was  uttered  in  a  louder  voice. 

"Well,  then,  at  least  you  must  come  and  look 
at  some  little  things  I  put  out  for  you  to  see 
last  Monday,  when  you  promised  to  come  to 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  137 

tea  and  never  turned  up,  you  false  and  faith- 
less person!" 

Clifford  looked  bewildered  for  a  moment,  then 
answered  quickly: 

"Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure,"  and  to  change  the 
subject  expressed  himself  very  anxious  to  see 
what  she  had  to  show  him. 

Miss  Ashley  led  the  way  to  an  assortment  of 
Chippendale  chairs  and  inlaid  tables  in  the  cor- 
ner, Mark  following  with  alacrity  because  it 
brought  him  ten  yards  nearer  to  his  divinity. 

Miss  Ashley  began  exhibiting  her  wares. 
"Now,  isn't  this  table  a  perfect  gem !  Just  you 
look  at  the  pattern  inlaid  along  the  top,  and  the 
beveled  edge  round  the  rim!  And  here  is  a 
chair— perfectly  unique.  This  chair  is  a  gen- 
uine antique  and  is  worth  a  lot  of  money,  but 
from  you  I  will  only  ask  six  pounds  ten,  and 
the  table  you  may  have  for  four  guineas — &  real 
bargain  both  of  them,  as  you  can  see  for  your- 
self." 

"Oh,  you  want  me  to  buy  them?  Oh,  I  see! 
very  well,  certainly." 

He  was  decidedly  either  deaf  or  stupid,  Miss 
Ashley  thought.  What  else  could  he  suppose 
she  wanted!  however,  he  had  said  "very  well, 
certainly,"  so  she  concluded  that  the  bargain 
was  sealed. 


138  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Miss  Pratt,"  she  called  out  to  her  secre- 
tary, "if  Miss  Ommaney  has  quite  finished  her 
purchases,  please  come  here  and  put  this  table 
and  chair  aside  for  Mr.  Clifford." 

Miss  Pratt  sauntered  leisurely  forward. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Pratt?"  said  Clifford, 
putting  out  his  hand.  She  ignored  it  entirely 
and  bowed. 

"Now,  can't  I  tempt  you  with  this  lovely  em- 
broidery, Mr.  Clifford?"  went  on  the  lady 
decorator,  who  was  by  this  time  flushed  with 
success.  She  held  it  up  with  both  hands.  "It 
is  perfectly  beautiful,  isn't  it? — a  real  old  piece. 
You  shall  have  it  for  five  guineas." 

"My  dear  Miss  Ashley!  what  possible  use 
could  I  make  of  a  piece  of  embroidery,  how- 
ever beautiful  and  however  cheap?"  cried  Clif- 
ford, holding  up  his  hands.  He  had  not  been  a 
rich  man  long  enough  to  forget  the  traditions  of 
a  poor  one,  and,  in  spite  of  his  love-sick  condi- 
tion, he  awoke  to  the  conviction  that  having  put 
his  foot  into  the  "den,"  the  "lioness"  in  charge 
was  bent  upon  fleecing  him.  He  did  not  mind 
certainly  paying  something  for  the  pleasure  of 
being  under  the  same  roof  with  Chris,  but  how- 
ever madly  a  man  may  be  in  love,  there  are 
limits! 
Clifford  drew  the  line  at  the  embroidery,  and 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  139 

would  have  refused  it  utterly,  had  not  Miss 
Ada  Ommaney,  on  the  principle  of  the  "rush- 
ing in  of  fools,"  here  stepped  into  the  breach. 

"Well,  you  might  give  it  to  Maud  for  a  birth- 
day present  if  you  don't  know  what  else  to  do 
with  it,  Mr.  Clifford.  It's  Maud's  birthday  to- 
morrow, and  she  dotes  on  old  embroideries;  and 
she  is  quite  mad  with  you  because  you  prom- 
ised to  come  and  see  her  sketches  for  the  Art 
Gazette  last  Monday,  and  she  waited  in  for  you 
all  the  afternoon,  and  you  never  came!  So  if 
you  want  to  make  your  peace  with  her— — " 

"Put  down  the  embroidery  to  me,  please, 
Miss  Ashley,  and  send  it  to  Miss  Ommaney  to- 
morrow with  my  card,"  said  Clifford,  meekly 
turning  to  Miss  Ashley.  Yes,  he  knew  he  had 
promised !  and  it  had  gone  clean  out  of  his  head ! 

Miss  Ashley  scored.  Still  she  did  wonder 
where  Mr.  Clifford  could  have  been  on  Monday 
afternoon,  since  he  seemed  to  have  broken  his 
engagements  to  everybody  on  that  day! 

And  then,  seizing  the  moment  when  Chris 
was  wrapping  up  the  embroidery  in  silver  paper 
in  the  back  shop,  Clifford  walked  boldly  after 
her,  leaving  Miss  Ashley  speechless  with  sur- 
prise. 

"I  must  speak  to  you  alone,  or  I  shall  die!" 
he  whispered. 


140  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Good  gracious!"  replied  Miss  Pratt  with 
mock  alarm. 

"Where  and  when  can  I  see  you?  For  God's 
sake,  don't  laugh  at  me!" 

"All  right,  don't  excite  yourself." 

"Well,  but  when?" 

"This  day  week." 

"Not  before?    Why  must  I  wait  a  week?" 

"I  can't  see  you  before." 

"Where,  then?  and  what  time?" 

"At  the  railway  station — departure  platform 
—half  an  hour  before  the  four  o'clock  train 
starts  for  London,  that  is  at  3:30." 

"What  do  you  mean?" — turning  pale. 

"What  I  say!" — throwing  her  inscrutable 
smile  up  at  him. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  141 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  you,  Miss  Pratt,"  said  Miss 
Ashley  in  her  stiffest  and  most  distant  manner 
that  evening  when,  after  making  the  necessary 
change  in  her  dress,  her  secretary  descended  to 
the  parlor  in  order  to  partake  of  the  "high  tea" 
laid  out  upon  the  table. 

Since  Mr.  Clifford  had  left  her  premises,  Miss 
Ashley  had  not  spoken  to  her  secretary.  She 
had  not  had  the  opportunity  of  doing  so,  for 
Ada  Ommaney  had  stayed  on  a  little  while 
longer,  expatiating  freely  and  gushingly  over 
Clifford's  good  looks,  and  then  somebody  else 
has  come  in,  and  afterwards  Miss  Pratt  had 
gone  upstairs  to  her  room  to  change  her  dress, 
so  that  there  had  been  no  chance  of  private 
conversation. 

But  wrath— righteous  wrath  more  especially 
— only  keeps  the  better  for  bottling,  and  Miss 
Ashley  during  the  unavoidable  delay  had 
worked  herself  up  into  a  fever  of  indignation. 

With  surprise  rapidly  merging  into  down- 
right anger,  Miss  Ashley  had  noted  Clifford's 


142  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

extraordinary  retrograde  movement  towards 
the  back  shop.  She  had  seen  with  amazement 
that  he  had  continued  by  Miss  Pratt's  side, 
whispering  to  her  for  some  moments,  and  that 
she  had  responded  to  his  whispers  in  the  same 
manner.  With  horror  she*had  watched  him  at- 
tempt to  take  the  parcel  out  of  her  hands  in 
order  to  tie  it  up  for  her.  She  saw  indeed  that 
he  did  actually  succeed  in  winding  the  string 
about  it,  and  Miss  Ashley  thought,  she  could 
not  be  absolutely  certain,  but  she  certainly 
fancied  that  he  caught  hold  of  Miss  Pratt's  fin- 
gers surreptitiously  during  the  subsequent  proc- 
ess of  knotting  that  string,  and  she  was  quite 
sure  that  there  was  a  little  scuffle  between  the 
two'over  it. 

If  she  had  not  seen  everything,  she  had  at 
least  seen  enough,  and  her  eyes  grew  round 
with  astonishment  and  horror. 

"This  comes,"  she  thought,  "of  taking  a  girl 
from  an  advertisement,  and  without  a  reference! 
Mrs.  Ommaney  would  say  it  served  me  right,  I 
daresay !  There  is  certainly  some  understand- 
ing between  them,  and  no  doubt  this  brazen 
creature  has  followed  Mr.  Clifford  down  from 
London,  and  only  came  to  my  house  in  order  to 
be  near  him!  Oh,  it's  shameful!  disgracful! 
and  I  have  indeed  been  duped !  for  it  is  clear 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  143 

that  she  is  no  better  than  she  should  be,  an 
abandoned  creature  unfit  to  set  foot  in  an  honest 
and  virtuous  home !  Well,  it  must  end,  of 
course.  I  would  turn  her  out  this  very  night  if 
I  could,  but  I  am  sadly  afraid  that  I  am  com- 
pelled to  give  her  a  week's  notice;  still,  if  I  put 
it  sufficiently  plainly  and  strongly,  perhaps  she 
will  go  to-morrow  of  her  own  accord,  for  really, 
with  a  young  servant  like  Susan  in  the  house  I 
dread  the  contamination  of  her  presence,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  danger  to  my  own  good  name, 
which,  thank  heaven,  I  have  ever  kept  fair  and 
spotless!  Oh,  the  wretch — the  vile,  degraded 
wretch!"  And  Miss  Ashley  clenched  her  fists, 
and  shook  them  in  the  air  with  rage,  and  with 
the  rage  that  was  so  very  virtuous  there  was  at 
the  same  time  a  strong  mingling  of  envy  and 
jealousy  that  could  claim  kinship  with  no 
virtue  that  has  ever  been  recorded  in  the  cate- 
chisms of  Christianity. 

For  it  was  gall  and  bitterness  to  Miss  Ashley 
to  find  that  this  rich  young  bachelor  who  had 
been  dropped  like  a  golden  sugar-plum  into  the 
fluttering  midst  of  the  ladies  of  Middleshire, 
and  who  had  been  preordained,  providentially 
no  doubt,  to  become  their  prey  and  their  prop- 
erty, was  after  all  not  a  free-lance  at  all,  but  a 
slave  already  hampered  by  a  discreditable  in- 


144  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

trigue  with  a  girl  who  came  from  nobody  knew 
where,  and  who  had  had  the  effrontery  to  fol- 
low him  down  to  the  very  gates  of  his  new  home ! 

The  only  consoling  thought  which  Miss  Ash- 
ley was  able  to  hug  to  her  heart,  was  the  reflec- 
tion that  at  least  she  was  not  the  only  woman 
who  would  suffer — she  was  but  one  amongst  a 
crowd.  And  how  delightful  it  would  be  to  go 
about  and  pour  the  whole  story  into  every  other 
female  ear  of  the  neighborhood !  There  was  at 
any  rate,  balm  in  Gilead  in  that  thought!  How 
mad  the  managing  mothers  with  marriageable 
daughters  would  all  be  at  the  news!  and  above 
all,  with  what  perfect  enjoyment  would  she  not 
put  a  spoke  into  the  wheel  of  that  most  auda- 
cious flirt,  Mrs.  Frederick  Bruhen!  And  her 
glee  over  the  prospect  of  that  poor  lady's  dis- 
comfiture almost  compensated  Miss  Ashley  for 
her  dismay  at  the  discovery  of  her  secretary's 
misconduct.  For  all  these  ladies  of  Middle- 
shire,  it  will  be  noted,  hated  one  another  with 
a  sweet  and  holy  hatred  such  as  the  female 
heart  alone  is  capable  of  cherishing. 

She  dressed  quickly  and  went  down  to  the 
parlor  to  await  the  delinquent.  She  had  put 
on  her  shot-silk  dress,  which  she  invariably 
donned  for  events  of  importance,  together  with 
her  sternest  and  severest  manner,  and  as  she 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  145 

stood  by  the  fireplace  expecting  Miss  Pratt's 
entrance,  she  decided  exactly  what  she  was 
going  to  say  to  her.  There  should  be  no  mercy 
shown  to  the  culprit,  no  tampering  with  sin,  no 
half  measures.  She  would  accuse  her  of  her 
iniquity  boldly,  and  straightforwardly,  and 
then  she  would  wither  her  with  the  blight  of 
her  condemnation.  And  she  would  not  relent, 
no,  not  if  Miss  Pratt  were  to  go  down  upon  her 
bended  knees  before  her  and  to  cling  with  both 
her  hands  to  the  skirts  of  her  Sunday  shot  silk 
—no,  not  even  then  should  one  grain  of  pity- 
enter  into  her  heart  towards  the  groveling 
sinner!  She  would  just  wrench  away  the  Sun- 
day shot-silk  out  of  her  contaminating  hands — 
Miss  Ashley  here  rehearsed  this  action,  as  she 
pictured  the  harrowing  scene  to  herself— and  in 
accents  of  mingled  sorrow  and  anger  she  would 
address  her.  "Unhappy  girl,"  she  would  begin 
—perhaps  "unhappy  creature"  would  be  bet- 
ter, more  contempt  about  it — "it  is  not  from 
me  you  should  sue  for  mercy,  [but  from  the 
Almighty  whose  laws  you  have  broken."  That 
was  good,  decidedly  good,  she  thought. 

At  this  juncture  she  caught  the  sound  of 
light  footsteps  upon  the  staircase,  and  oddly 
enough  Miss  Ashley  suddenly  felt  a  little  nerv- 
ous as  she  heard  it.  Still  it  was  with  a  very 


146  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

tolerable  assumption  of  coldness  and  disap- 
probation that  she  turned  at  the  opening  of  the 
door  and  uttered  the  opening  words  already 
recorded : 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  you,  Miss  Pratt.'' 

"Now  that  is  very  curious,  Miss  Ashley,"  re- 
plied Chris  brightly,  and  with  a  smile,  "because 
I  also  want  to  speak  to  you!" 

"What  I  want  to  say  to  you  is  very  serious," 
went  on  Miss  Ashley,  in  a  voice  of  solemn 
gravity. 

"How  odd !  What  I  want  to  say  to  you  is 
very  serious  too!" 

"Allow  me  to  speak  first,  if  you  please," 
said  Miss  Ashley,  putting  up  her  hand. 

"On  the  contrary,  my  dear  Miss  Ashley,  it  is 
I  who  must  speak  first,  and  then  I  will  listen 
with  pleasure  to  anjrthing  you  have  to  say." 

"Miss  Pratt,  I " 

"Miss  Ashley,  wait  one  moment,  pray.  What 
I  have  to  say  is  very  brief.  It  is  only  that  I  am 
sorry  to  say  in  spite  of  your  kindness  to  me  I 
am  obliged  to  leave  you  this  day  week." 

Miss  Ashley  uttered  what  may  fitly  be  de- 
scribed as  a  howl  of  baffled  rage,  and  sinking 
down  all  of  a  heap  into  the  nearest  chair  she 
burst  into  a  storm  of  angry  tears. 

"My  dear  Miss  Ashley!"  cried  Chris,  quite 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  147 

bewildered,  "pray  do  not  be  so  upset!  What 
is  the  matter?  1  assure  you  I  have  no  desire  to 
grieve  you  or  to  inconvenience  you.  We  agreed, 
you  know,  to  give  a  week's  notice  on  either 
side,  and  I  am  really  very  sorry  to  leave  you. 
I  have  been  most  comfortable,  and  you  have 
been  very  kind  to  me,  and  really  I  like  the 
work,  too.  I  assure  you  it  is  simply  and  solely 
from  private  and  personal  motives  that  I  am 
compelled  to  leave  you' ' — here  she  attempted 
to  take  Miss  Ashley's  hand. 

"Oh,  you  horrid,  wicked  creature!"  ejaculated 
Miss  Ashley  betwixt  hysterical  sobs,  chucking 
away  the  proffered  hand  ferociously. 

"Eh?  What?— what  on  earth  do  you  mean?" 
inquired  Chris  in  astonishment.  Whereat  Miss 
Ashley  left  off  sobbing  and  began  to  rail  at 
her. 

"As  if  you  didn't  know  perfectly  well  what  I 
mean,  you  deceitful  wretch !  Do  you  suppose  I 
am  blind  that  I  cannot  see  your  dreadful  goings 
on,  now  my  eyes  have  at  last  been  opened  to 
them?  And  I  who  trusted  you  and  believed  in 
you !  And  there  you  were  whispering  away  in 
a  corner  with  Mr.  Clifford  this  evening/' 

"Oh!  that's  it,  is  it?" 

"Yes,  that's  it,  you  hussy,  you  shameless 
wretch!'* 


148  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Kindly  moderate  your  epithets,  Miss  Ash- 
ley. You  are  becoming  somewhat  offensive, 
you  know.1' 

"Offensive !  I  hope  I  am  offensive,  as  an  hon- 
est woman  ought  to  be  to  a  creature  like  you!" 

"My  good  woman— my  honest  woman,  for 
heaven's  sake,  leave  off  raving  like  a  lunatic, 
and  say  out  what  you  are  driving  at !  What  on 
earth  have  I  done?" 

"Oh,  don't  ask  me  what  you  have  done;  I 
shudder  even  to  think  of  it!  Where  were  you, 
pray,  on  Monday  afternoon?" 

'*!  was  out,  as  you  know.  I  went  for  a  walk 
in  Esselton  Park. 

"And  I  suppose  you  will  dare  to  tell  me  next 
that  you  were  walking  alone?" 

"Certainly  I  shall  not.     I  was  not  alone/* 

"Then  who,  I  ask,  who  was  with  you?" 

"Mr.  Clifford." 

"You  dare  to  admit  it?" 

Miss  Pratt  laughed  outright  at  this.  "My 
dear  Miss  Ashley,  do  try  and  calm  yourself ; 
you  will  really  have  a  fit  if  you  go  on  like  this. 
Did  I  ever  tell  you  that  Mr.  Clifford  was  not 
with  me?" 

"And  I  suppose  you  never  met  this  gentle- 
man before  you  came  here?" 

"Never." 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  149 

"Never  heard  of  him,  perhaps?" — with  a 
sneer. 

Miss  Pratt  thought  a  moment,  then  she  said : 

"Yes,  I  had  heard  of  him." 

"Oh,  indeed!" — with  withering  scorn — "then 
perhaps  you  can  tell  me,  you  nice,  modest,  in- 
nocent young  lady,  what  is  Mr.  Clifford's  rela- 
tion to  you?" 

For  the  first  time  the  secretary  was  taken 
aback.  She  changed  color  rapidly  and  stared 
at  her  accuser  blankly  for  a  few  moments. 

"What  relation  to  me!"  she  faltered  at  last. 
"Who— who  told  you  that  he  was  related  to 
me?"  and  she  appeared  to  be  distinctly  very 
much  upset. 

"Aha!"  shouted  Miss  Ashley  triumphantly, 
"at  last  I  have  shaken  your  brazen  insolence! 
You  need  say  no  more.  Your  guilty  face  be- 
trays your  secret,  Miss  Pratt!" 

For  the  moment  Chris  was  certainly  discon- 
certed, for,  knowing  that  she  had  a  secret  and 
misunderstanding  the  drift  of  Miss  Ashley's 
last  question,  she  had  imagined  for  an  instant 
that  the  lady  decorator  had  in  some  way  be- 
come acquainted  with  what  she  had  so  carefully 
concealed — for  Clifford  was  certainly  "a  rela- 
tion," though  a  distant  one;  he  was  the  son  of 
her  father's  second  cousin.  But,  after  hearing 


150  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Miss  Ashley's  violent  outburst  of  unholy  glee, 
Miss  Pratt  perceived  that  the  amiable  lady  had 
gone  off  upon  a  totally  different  assumption, 
and  that  she  certainly  knew  nothing  whatever 
about  the  real  state  of  affairs. 

So  she  resumed  her  equanimity  and  laughed 
quite  merrily. 

"Don't  you  think  we  have  had  about  enough 
vituperation,  my  dear  Miss  Ashley?"  and  as 
she  spoke  she  drew  in  a  chair  to  the  table  and 
sat  down.  "Will  you  have  some  poached 
eggs?" — lifting  up  the  cover  in  front  of  her. 
"And  please  give  me  my  tea,  I  am  very 
thirsty." 

"I  don't  know  how  I  can  bring  myself  to  sit 
at  meat  with  you!"  snarled  Miss  Ashley. 

"There  is  no  meat,  as  it  happens,  so  that 
difficulty  is  easily  overcome." 

"You  ought  in  common  decency,  if  you  have 
any,  to  leave  my  house  to-morrow." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  haven't  got  common  de- 
cency, but  I  have  got  your  written  letter  con- 
cerning a  week's  notice  on  either  side,  so  as  it 
suits  me  best  to  stick  to  that,  I  shall  go  this 
day  week,  if  you  please." 

After  that  the  meal  was  eaten  in  total  silence, 
and  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  Miss  Ashley  felt 
uncomfortably  aware  that  the  part  she  had 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  151 

played  in  the  interview  had  not  been  an  entirely 
dignified  one. 

"Although,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  shall 
always  say  that  there  was  guilt  in  her  face 
when  I  first  brought  home  her  sin  to  her!" 


152  The  Craze  of  Christina. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  WEEK  later  Clifford  was  "kicking  his  heels," 
as  the  saying  goes,  up  and  down  the  departure 
platform  at  the  railway  station.  It  was  some 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  before  the  four 
o'clock  London  express  was  due,  and  the  plat- 
form was  empty;  there  was  hardly  a  porter 
even  to  be  seen. 

It  seemed  to  him  an  eternity  before  a  cab 
drew  up  outside,  and  as  he  hurried  forward 
eagerly  at  the  sound  of  the  approaching  wheels 
his  heart  went  right  down  into  his  boots  when 
he  realized  that  not  only  was  Mis§  Pratt  inside 
it,  but  that  her  box  was  outside  over  her  head. 

She  was  going  away,  then! 

These  were  the  first  words  he  uttered  aloud 
as  he  assisted  her  to  alight. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  away,"  she  replied  calmly. 

"Why?— why?"  he  faltered. 

"Because  I  have  left  Miss  Ashley." 

"But — you  will  come  back?" 

"Never.  I  have  turned  my  back  upon  'ye 
olde  ehoppe*  with  the  'antient  manne'  outside 
it.  and  'ye  antient  catte'  inside  it,  forever!" 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  153 

"What  rot  it  all  is,"  remarked  Mr.  Clifford 
irrelevantly. 

Miss  Pratt  was  paying  the  cabman  and  in- 
structing the  porter  concerning  the  labeling  of 
her  box. 

"Yes,  I  agree  with  you,"  she  said,  turning 
towards  him  when  she  had  accomplished  these 
necessary  preliminaries;  "it's  awful  rot,  but  it 
amuses  some  women,  I  suppose,  to  play  at 
being  driveling  idiots." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  inquired  Clifford 
gloomily. 

"Only  as  far  as  London  to-day." 

"And  then?" 

"Then  I  think  I  am  going  to  run  over  to 
France;  to  Calais,  I  think." 

"Good  God!  you  can't  mean  it!" 

They  were  walking  side  by  side  along  the 
length  of  the  platform,  but  at  this  juncture 
Clifford  stood  stock-still,  and  Miss  Pratt  was 
obliged  to  stand  still  too.  He  was  deadly  pale. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  mean  it,  pray?"  she  de- 
manded airily, 

"You  can't  mean  to  place  the  ocean  between 
us?" 

"If  by  the  ocean  you  are  alluding  to  the  Eng- 
lish Channel,  well,  decidedly  if  I  go  to  France 
it  will  in  the  course  of  nature  flow  between  the 


154  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

French  coast  and  Middleshire;  but  really,  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  be  said  to  have  'placed'  it 
there!" 

Clifford  disregarded  the  very  indifferent  jest; 
things  to  him  were  far  too  serious  for  jest- 
ing. 

"Miss  Pratt— Chris— for  heaven's  sake  listen 
to  me!  I  cannot— I  will  not — lose  you  like  this ! 
You  must  know — yes,  I  am  convinced  that  you 
know — that  I  love  you !  If  I  am  speaking  too 
soon  it  is  you  who  are  driving  me  to  it.  I  have 
no  wish  to  risk  your  displeasure  by  a  precipi- 
tate disclosure  of  my  feelings,  but  you  are 
hurrying  me  on  by  your  cruel  desertion  of  me. 
I  cannot  keep  silence  when  I  see  you  vanishing 
before  my  eyes." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Clifford!  really,  I  am  not  at 
vanishing  point  yet;  I  am  quite  solid  and  very 
substantial,  and  the  train  is  not  due  for  half  an 
hour!  Pray,  calm  yourself." 

"Oh,  you  can  laugh!  You  can  turn  me  into 
ridicule! — it  is  nothing  to  you,  doubtless,  that  I 
love  you  to  distraction." 

Miss  Pratt  became  quite  serious,  and  after  a 
moment's  pause  she  said: 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  it  is  not  'nothing'  to  me 
at  all." 

He  seized  her  hand  rapturously. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  155 

"You  do  care  for  me,  then!  Oh,  my  dar- 
ling!" 

"Hush!" — drawing  away  her  hand— "do  take 
care,  the  porter  is  looking  at  us." 

"Why  should  I  care  if  fifty  porters  are  look- 
ing at  us !  You  have  admitted  that  you  are  not 
indifferent  to  me." 

"Well!"— with  one  of  those  brilliant  bewilder- 
ing smiles  which  had  done  more  than  anything 
else  to  turn  his  head — "what  next,  then?  what 
do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"I  want  you  to  be  my  wife,  Chris,  but " 

"Ah,  there  is  a  'but,'  then!"  she  cried. 

"It  is  a  long  story,  but  if  you  will  give  me 
time  I  will  explain  it  all  to  you,  only  pray  don't 
go  out  of  the  country!" 

"On  the  contrary,  since  there  are  'buts'  and 
explanations  necessary,  I  think  that  it  is  the 
best  thing  I  can  possibly  do.  Besides,  Calais  is 
not  Calcutta;  there  are  trains  and  steamboats 
and  Cook's  tourist  tickets — you  can  [follow  me 
there  if  you  like!" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  mocking  light  in 
her  lovely  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  might — I  might  certainly — there 
would  be  time,  1  think,  but  not  much  time. 
Why  do  you  go  so  far?  If  you  would  only  go 
to  the  White  Hart  at  Midchester  instead,  then 


156  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

I  will  bicycle  over  and  see  you  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  we  will  go  out  for  a  ride  together  and 
talk  everything  over.  I  could  cycle  over  every 
day  and  see  you,  and  we  could  have  some  de- 
lightful rides  if  the  weather  keeps  like  this;  the 
roads  round  Midchester  are  perfect!" 

"Unfortunately,  I  do  not  possess  a  bicycle." 

"Then  I  will  give  you  one — the  very  best  that 
I  can  find.  I  will  telegraph  for  a  Humber  or 
Swift,  or  whatever  make  you  like." 

"Don't  talk  nonsense.  How  can  I  accept 
bicycles  from  you? — I  am  not  your  sister." 

"No,  but  you  are  going  to  be  my  wife." 

"I  am  really  not  at  all  sure  about  that.  I 
should  think  it  improbable — impossible,  very 
likely." 

"Neither  improbable  nor  impossible,  if  only 
you  love  me.  Do  you  love  me,  Chris?" 

They  were  right  at  the  far  end  of  the  plat- 
form and  Clifford  once  again  possessed  himself 
of  her  hand,  and  this  time  she  did  not  draw  it 
away;  his  touch  thrilled  her,  and  her  color  rose 
slowly  and  her  eyes  fell. 

He  saw  his  advantage  and  pursued  it. 

"You  do  love  me,  Chris,  don't  you?" — this 
in  a  low  voice,  very  tenderly. 

And  then  a  very  strange  thing  came  to  pass. 
Had  Christina  Greville  really  been  the  heartless 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  157 

and  mercenary  schemer  which  she  had  decided 
that  she  was,  she  would  most  assuredly  have 
looked  her  lover  full  in  the  face  and  have  de- 
clared in  no  hesitating  tones  that  she  adored 
him  and  would  marry  him  whenever  he 
liked;  instead  of  which,  she  found  herself 
quite  incapable  of  saying  anything  of  the 
kind. 

"What  a  dear  he  is,  and  what  a  brute  1  am !" 
she  thought.  "I  would  rather  give  up  the  whole 
thing  and  go  straight  out  of  his  life  than  play 
such  a  horrid  trick  upon  him.  If  he  could  only 
forget  me  altogether,  as  he  probably  will  if  I  go 
right  away,  it  will  be  the  very  best  thing  that 
could  possibly  happen"to  him.*'  And  what  she 
said  aloud  was  only : 

*'I  can't  really  say  that  I  love  you,  Mr.  Clif- 
ford'*—he  let  her  hand  fall  with  a  gesture  of 
despair  that  went  straight  to  her  heart,  and  she 
was  weak  enough  to  add — "you  see,  I  have 
known  you  such  a  short  time." 

"You  give  me  hope,  then?"  he  cried  joyfully, 
his  whole  face  brightening  at  once.  "Oh,  my 
darling,  you  shall  have  as  long  as  you  like  to 
think  about  it  and  to  know  me  better;  only 
please  go  to  Midchester,  so  that  I  may  see  you 
often." 

She  shook  her  head.    "No,  I  can't  do  that;  I 


158  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

must  go  to  Calais— it  is  all  settled,  really,"  she 
added  hurriedly. 

As  indeed  it  was,  for  she  had  already  ar- 
ranged with  her  father  and  sister  to  cross  the 
channel  on  the  morrow,  and  she  had  that  morn- 
ing heard  from  Ella  to  say  they  had  engaged 
rooms  at  a  modest  hotel  in  Calais,  where  their 
father  had  once  stayed  on  a  former  visit  to 
Europe.  It  was  quite  impossible  to  upset  all 
these  plans  at  the  last  moment,  for  of  course 
the  London  lodgings  were  to  be  given  up. 
Chris  sighed ;  she  felt  that  much  as  her  better 
nature  revolted  against  the  duplicity  she  Jiad 
begun  to  practise  upon  this  man,  yet  that  she 
was  now  powerless  to  alter  the  position  she  had 
voluntarily  assumed.  And  in  her  secret  heart 
it  must  be  admitted  that  she  was  very  glad,  for 
whatever  happened  in  the  future,  she  had  dis- 
covered that  she  cared  too  much  for  Clifford  to 
go  out  of  his  life  to-day  and  allow  him  to  forget 
her  entirely.  Whether  or  no  she  ever  became 
his  wife,  she  must  at  any  rate  see  him  again. 
The  next  move  would  have  to  be  played  by 
him.  He  must  come  to  Calais.  "He  can  easily 
get  back  within  a  week,"  she  told  herself  as  a 
salve  to  her  conscience,  and  she  went  on  to  as- 
sure herself  that  as  long  as  she  was  at  Calais, 
and  went  no  farther,  she  had  done  no  real  harm 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  159 

as  yet.  For,  as  it  will  have  been  suspected, 
Calais  was  only  the  stepping-stone  to  further 
developments  of  a  more  daring  nature. 

"At  any  rate,  it  will  serve  as  a  test  of  his 
sincerity,"  she  thought. 

They  were  walking  back  silently  towards  the 
station  buildings.  Clifford  looked  'profoundly 
miserable. 

"Before  you  go,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  want  at 
least  to  say  to  you  one  thing.  I  am  the  most 
unfortunate  of  men  in  that  I  am  unable  to  do 
what  I  most  wish  to  do — I  cannot  carry  out  my 
dearest  wishes  in  this  matter." 

"I  find  that  rather  difficult  to  believe,  Mr. 
Clifford !  Are  you  not  free,  rich,  independent?" 

"Free  I  may  seem  to  be,  rich  I  am,  but  inde- 
pendent I  am  certainly  not.  My  butler, 
Docker " 

"Oh!  don't,  Mr.  Clifford!"  and  Chris  stood 
still  and  burst  out  laughing;  "don't  bring  in 
your  butler!  What  has  he  got  to  do  with  me?" 

"Everything,  since  he  is  an  enemy  to  me  and 
to  the  woman  I  love!"  replied  the  young  man 
gloomily. 

"Send  him  away,  then." 

"I  cannot.  He  is  fixed  upon  me  for  life;  if  I 
send  him  away  I  lose  a  considerable  sum  of 
money." 


160  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Good  gracious,  how  odd!  Why?"  cried 
Miss  Pratt,  who  knew  every  word  of  the  late 
Mr.  Greville's  will  by  heart,  with  every  appear- 
ance of  astonishment. 

"Because  my  uncle  placed  certain  abomina- 
ble restrictions  upon  me  by  the  terms  of  his 
most  unjust  and  cruel  will,  and  that  is  one  of 
them!" 

"Well,  I  should  not  think  much  of  your 
affection  for  any  woman  if  you  were  not  ready 
to  lose  even  a  large  sum  of  money  for  her  sake ! 
If  this  man  is  her  enemy,  you  ought  to  send 
him  away  at  any  cost." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  he  said,  looking 
at  her  with  the  most  earnest  consideration; 
"and  the— the  lady  would  not  mind  becoming 
poorer,  you  think?" 

"Not  if  she  loved  you,"  replied  Miss  Pratt 
with  decision. 

"Ah,  my  dearest  Chris,  you  do  indeed  make 
me  happy  by  saying  that  to  me!"  cried  Clifford, 
once  more  possessing  himself  of  her  hand. 

He  felt  almost  light-headed  as  the  possibility 
of  getting  rid  of  Docker  together  with  twenty 
thousand  pounds  at  the  bidding  of  this  delight- 
ful woman  dawned  upon  him  in  a  blaze  of  glo- 
rious hope.  Such  happiness  was  almost  too 
overwhelming  to  contemplate! 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  161 

"And  this  horrible  butler  of  yours  would,  I 
suppose,  come  into  the  money  you  would  for- 
feit if  you  were  to  send  him  away?"  inquired 
Miss  Pratt. 

"No;  that  is  the  curious  part  of  it — he  gains 
nothing.  My  uncle  left  him  a  competence  for 
life.  The  twenty  thousand  pounds  would  go  to 
a  distant  cousin  of  my  uncle's — a  man  called 
Charles  Greville,  who  lives  in  Australia — a  man 
who  hasn't  a  shadow  of  a  right  to  it,  as  I  need 
hardly  tell  you." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  and  Chris  looked  away 
thoughtfully,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  her  temper 
secretly  rose  and  she  said  to  herself:  "It  is  un- 
true that  I  love  him ;  on  the  contrary  I  hate  him ! 
and  I  won't  change  any  of  my  plans  at  all,  or 
show  the  slightest  pity  to  him !  How  dare  he 
say  papa  has  no  right  to  it!"  Aloud  she  re- 
marked consolingly : 

"Oh,  perhaps  the  distant  cousin  will  die; 
perhaps  he  is  dead  already !" 

"Unfortunately  that  would  make  no  differ- 
ence at  all,  because  the  man  has  got  some 
children,  and  his  eldest  child  would  then  get 
the  money." 

"Horrid  brats !    What  are  they  like?" 

"I  really  don't  know.  There  are  two  girls,  I 
believe— grown  up,  I  fancy." 


1 62  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Nasty,  common,  colonial-bred  creatures,  I 
suppose?" 

"Yes,  most  probably;  but  that  condition  is 
really  only  the  least  offensive  item  of  my 
uncle's  atrocious  will.  There  are  two  others 
far  worse.  I  want  to  tell  you  about  them." 

"Well,  you  have  no  time  now,  for  here  is  the 
train.  You  will  have  to  tell  me  another  time," 
and  she  got  into  a  second-class  carriage. 

"Oh,  this  is  dreadful!"  he  cried  miserably, 
leaning  in  at  the  carriage  window;  "and  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  everything  so  much.' 

"Come  to  Calais,  then!" 

"May  I  really?" 

She  nodded  gayly  at  him.  The  train  began 
to  move. 

"What  hotel?"  he  cried  despairingly. 

"Hotel  de  THorloge,"  she  shouted  back,  and 
the  train  went  on. 


The  Craze,  of  Christina.  163 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CHRIS  was  standing  at  the  window  of  a  small 
upper  sitting-room  of  the  Hotel  de  1'Horloge. 
It  was  situated  at  the  back,  for  the  front  en- 
trance to  the  hotel  was  towards  the  street.  It 
was  an  old-fashioned  and  somewhat  second- 
rate  little  hostelry.  It  was  not  very  clean,  and 
it  smelt  of  garlic  and  of  cuisine  bourgeoise 
generally,  as  second-rate  French  inns  are  wont 
to  do.  Nevertheless  the  people  were  civil  and 
obliging  and  very  anxious  to  please  their  clients. 
There  was,  properly  speaking,  no  sea  view 
from  the  Hotel  de  FHorloge,  but  there  was  a 
glimpse  of  the  sea  to  be  had  from  one  or  two  of 
the  back  rooms  through  an  opening  between 
two  houses  opposite.  The  opening  was  but  a 
narrow  oblong ;  first  came  a  slice  of  sea-wall, 
then  a  stretch  of  the  treacherous  quicksands 
that  border  the  shore,  and  lastly  a  strip  of  the 
sea  itself,  which  to-day  was  drab-colored  and 
melted  away  into  the  horizon  into  a  gray  and 
lowering  sky.  Nevertheless  this  little  glimpse 
of  the  English  Channel  was  valuable  to  Chris, 
because  it  was  here  that  every  day  she 


164  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

watched  for  the  English  packet  bound  for 
Calais  harbor.  It  came  into  sight  just  for  a  few 
seconds  as  it  crossed  the  opening,  then  van- 
ished, and  was  succeeded  by  a  long  trail  of 
black  smoke.  And  directly  it  had  passed  out 
of  sight  the  same  expectancy  and  the  same  in- 
terval of  excitement  occurred. 

Every  day  a  fly  waited  at  an  iron  gateway  at 
the  back  of  the  hotel.  This  gateway  opened 
into  a  side  street  and  could  be  reached  by  going 
out  at  the  kitchen  door  and  crossing  a  small 
garden  filled  with  onions  and  parsley.  Inside 
the  room  Ella  sat  with  her  walking  things  on, 
whilst  their  father  also  waited  in  his  armchair 
with  his  traveling  ulster,  hat  and  stick  placed 
conveniently  near  him.  Outside  on  the  landing 
their  boxes  stood  ready  packed  and  strapped. 

Hitherto  after  a  certain  interval  the  garden 
had  tapped  at  the  door  and  put  his  head  into 
the  room  to  announce  that  the  omnibus  had  re- 
turned from  meeting  the  steamer  and  that  no- 
body in  it  had  inquired  for  Mam'selle  Pratt. 
Then  Mademoiselle  Pratt  would  reply : 

"Bien!  nous  resterons  done  jusqu'a  demain," 
after  which  precautions  were  relaxed,  the  cab- 
man was  sent  away,  a  few  necessaries  were  ex- 
tracted from  the  top  of  the  trunks,  and  Chris 
and  Ella  usually  went  out  together  for  a  walk. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  165 

"We  must  not  rush  into  unnecessary  expense 
without  being  quite  certain,"  she  had  said,  and 
up  to  now  nobody  had  followed  her  from  Eng- 
land across  the  sea.  To-day,  however,  she  had 
a  conviction  that  the  waiting  would  not  be  in 
vain.  She  had  intuitions,  and  her  premonitory 
instincts  were  seldom  wrong. 

Presently  the  boat  came  into  sight,  traveling 
slowly,  because  the  sea  was  rough,  and  the 
wind  was  in  her  teeth. 

"Here  she  comes,"  remarked  the  watcher; 
"we  will  give  her  half  an  hour  to-day,  but  I  am 
quite  certain  he  is  on  board  her." 

"I  can't  see  how  you  can  tell,  my  dear,"  said 
her  father. 

"Instinct,  dad.  It's  an  extra  sense  with  me." 
She  began  putting  the  traveling  bags  and  wraps 
together. 

"Is  he  a  bad  sailor,  Chris?"  inquired  Ella; 
"he  will  have  had  a  fine  tossing  if  he  is." 

"How  should  I  know  if  he  is  a  bad  sailor? 
Ella,  do  ring  twice  for  the  portier.  I  am  quite 
sure  we  had  better  have  the  boxes  taken  out." 

This  was  accordingly  done,  and  presently  the 
fly  at  the  back  door  was  laden  with  the  family 
trunks. 

"Now"— glancing  at  the  clock — "I  shall  go 
and  listen  on  the  landing.  Be  quite  ready  to 


1 66  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

start,  dears.     Put  your  coat  on,  father,   and 
fasten  up  the  dressing-bag,  Ella." 

They  obeyed  her  implicitly;  their  faith  in 
her  was  absolute. 

"She  is  wonderful,  Ella !"  said  Mr.  Greville  to 
his  younger  daughter;  "no  one  but  Chris  would 
have  the  daring  and  the  courage,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  wit,  to  carry  this  thing  through." 

"Pray  heaven  there  may  not  be  some  horrible 
hitch  at  the  last!" 

"Well,  of  course,  it's  impossible  for  her  to 
get  everything,"  remarked  Mr.  Greville  with 
amusement.  "As  I  said  to  Chris  this  morning, 
short  of  marrying  the  fellow  herself,  she  can't 
turn  him  out  of  Esselton  Hall." 

"And  she's  not  likely  to  do  that!"  said  Ella 
with  contempt;  "that  indeed  would  be  burning 
her  own  fingers  in  the  fire!  The  question  is,  Is 
it  possible  to  do  anything?" 

"Yes;  I  begin  to  agree  with  Chris,  if  she  can 
get  him  to  break  either  of  the  other  two  condi- 
tions, then  we  shall  not  have  come  across  the 
world  in  vain.  Fifty  thousand  pounds  is  within 
our  reach  at  this  moment,  Ella;  think  of 
that!  Why,  with  fifty  thousand  pounds  we 
could  go  back  to  Melbourne  and  live  comforta- 
bly to  the  end  of  our  lives.  You  and  Chris 
should  take  your  proper  place  in  society  again; 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  167 

we  could  rent  a  house  in  a  good  position  and 
keep  a  carriage,  and  we  would  begin  to  enter- 
tain. All  our  old  friends  would  look  us  up  and 
we  should  be  quite  comfortably  off — just  think 
of  it!"  and  the  invalid's  eyes  sparkled  and  his 
pale  face  flushed  at  the  picture  he  conjured  up 
of  future  ease  and  pleasure.  Charles  Greville 
had  something  of  his  daughter's  buoyant  and 
sanguine  temperament,  without,  however,  her 
persistent  and  indomitable  spirit.  Ella,  how- 
ever, shook  her  head ;  she  did  not  believe  that 
her  sister  would  succeed  in  wresting  any  of  the 
Greville  money  away  from  its  present  owner, 
and  she  was  moreover  troubled  by  scruples  of 
conscience  concerning  the  methods  employed 
by  Chris.  She  knew,  also,  better  than  Chris  did, 
that  their  father  would  too  probably  never  live 
to  see  Melbourne  again.  Even  money,  and  the 
comforts  and  luxuries  it  brings,  cannot  give 
back  health  to  a  man  who  is  stricken  with  a 
mortal  disease,  although  it  may  serve  to  alle- 
viate the  pain  of  it,  and  possibly  even  keep  it 
at  bay  for  a  few  years  longer. 

Meanwhile  Chris  was  hanging  over  the  banis- 
ters outside  on  the  landing,  watching  and  listen- 
ing. 

Presently  with  a  clatter  of  hoofs  and  wheels 
on  the  asphalt  of  the  courtyard,  the  omnibus 


1 68  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

of  the  Hotel  de  1'Horloge  drew  up  at  the  front 
door.  There  were  several  people  inside,  and  a 
mountain  of  luggage  at  the  top.  Chris  did  not 
dare  to  show  herself,  or  to  look  for  the  particu- 
lar traveler  she  expected.  She  could  see,  how- 
ever, that  there  was  a  crowd  around  the  bureau, 
and  she  heard  the  voices  of  the  people  as  they 
inquired  for  rooms,  and  the  ringing  of  bells  for 
the  chambermaid  and  the  gar  f  on. 

At  last,  however,  she  heard  a  familiar  voice 
in  an  unfamiliar  language,  a  language  that 
caused  her  to  stifle  a  strong  desire  to  laugh 
aloud,  since  it  was  the  most  atrociously  Eng- 
lish-French both  as  regards  accent  and  idiom 
she  had  ever  had  the  privilege  of  listening  to. 
"Est-ce-quer,  Madermoisel  Pratt,  est  ici?" 
The  lady  in  the  bureau,  who  had  been  specially 
and  carefully  primed  with  her  answer,  in  case 
this  question  were  asked  of  her,  replied  quite 
cheerfully : 

"Non,  m'sieur,  Mam'selle  Pratt  est  partie." 
"Nong!  vous  ne  dites  pus!"— in  an  accent  of 
horror  and  dismay. 

"Si,  m'sieur,  elle  est  partie  ce  matin  meme." 
"Ou— ou?"  seemed  to  be  gasped  forth  from  a 
hoarse  and  trembling  throat. 

A  pause.    "Ah,  mais  il  y  avait  une  lettre!" 
said  madame.    "Alphonse,  mon  ami,  ou  est  la 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  169 

let/tre  que  cette  dame  Anglaise  nous  a  confie? 
Vot'  nom  est  Cleefforde,  m'sieur?" 

Chris  waited  to  hear  no  more.  She  fled  back 
to  the  sitting-room.  "Quick,  quick!**  she  cried; 
"let  us  be  off.  He  is  reading  my  letter;  we 
must  catch  that  train." 

In  a  very  few  seconds  the  whole  party  were 
out  of  the  house  by  the  garden  gate  scrambling 
into  the  fly.  The  cocker  was  told  to  drive  fast, 
and  with  a  noisy  cracking  of  the  long  whip  the 
vehicle  swung  round  the  corner  and  was  soon 
at  full  gallop  towards  the  town  station,  where 
the  travelers  were  in  time,  and  only  just  in 
time,  to  catch  the  Paris  train  that  was  steam- 
ing slowly  in  from  the  harbor  station. 

And  meanwhile  Clifford  was  sitting  discon- 
solately in  the  hall  at  the  hotel,  reading  the 
letter  that  his  runaway  love  had  left  for  him* 
He  read: 

"DEAR  MR.  CLIFFORD:  Time  and  absence 
from  you  have  caused  me  to  think  things  seri- 
ously over.  I  cannot  believe  that  you  are  in 
earnest;  it  is  too  much  to  suppose  that  your 
heart  can  be  really  touched  after  our  very 
short  acquaintance.  I  am  leaving  Calais  imme- 
diately, as  I  have  a  strong  desire  to  see  more  of 
this  country.  I  am  at  present  uncertain  of  my 
destination,  but  in  the  very  improbable  event  of 


1 70  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

your  arriving  here  after  I  have  left,  I  am  writ- 
ing this  to  ask  you  to  remain  at  this  hotel  until 
you  hear  from  me.  Of  course  if  you  do  come 
it  will  prove  to  me  to  a  great  extent,  if  not 
wholly,  that  you  are  in  earnest,  in  which  case  I 
feel  bound  by  my  promise  to  let  you  know  my 
whereabouts.  I  shall  therefore  write  imme- 
diately to  you  from  my  first  stopping-place, 
which  I  cannot  yet  decide  upon,  and  you  can 
follow  me  if  you  wish.  Yours  truly, 

"CHRISTINA  PRATT." 


Clifford  remained  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the  hall 
staring  blankly  at  vacancy.  It  was  a  crushing 
blow  not  to  find  her  here,  but  there  was  nothing 
hopeless  about  the  terms  of  her  letter,  and  he 
strove  to  find  consolation  in  the  fact  that  her 
doubts  were  not  with  regard  to  her  own  feel- 
ings, which  she  did  not  mention,  but  entirely  on 
account  of  his,  which,  of  course,  were  all  right. 
He  had  seemingly  only  to  persevere  in  order  to 
win  her,  and  of  course  he  was  going  to  persevere ; 
the  only  horrible  doubt  that  now  crept  into  his 
mind  was  as  to  whether  he  would  have  time 
enough  for  his  persevering.  He  had  left  Essel- 
ton  on  Monday,  the  day  before  yesterday,  and 
it  was  now  Wednesday;  for  unluckily  he  had 
stupidly  wasted  a  whole  twenty-four  hours  in 
London,  buying  himself  a  traveling  bag,  some 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  171 

brown  boots  and  a  thick  ulster,  and  other  trifles 
which  he  considered  would  render  him  more 
acceptable  in  the  eyes  of  his  beloved— includ- 
ing a  diamond  ring  which  he  destined  for  her 
finger  so  soon  as  she  should  have  given  him  the 
right  to  place  it  there.  This  last  purchase  had 
been  possibly  somewhat  premature,  and  had 
certainly  taken  up  a  great  deal  of  valuable 
time.  He  had  still,  however,  from  Wednesday 
till  next  Monday,  and  he  reckoned  that  that 
left  him  ample  time — provided  she  did  not  go 
very  far,  or  leave  him  very  long  without  the 
promised  letter.  So  long  as  he  could  have  even 
one  hour's  interview  with  her,  and  then  catch 
the  first  train  back  to  England,  it  was  all  that 
was  necessary ;  for  of  course  it  never  entered 
the  poor  young  man's  head  that  there  was  the 
slightest  question  of  losing  that  fifty  thousand 
pounds— that  would  be  too  utterly  foolish— for 
his  future  bride's  sake  no  less  than  for  his  own. 
Why  should  he  impoverish  Christina  Pratt  in 
order  to  enrich  Charles  Greville  and  his  family? 

Well,  no  doubt  she  had  gone  to  Paris,  and  he 
would  hear  from  her  during  the  course  of  to- 
morrow, so  that  he  could  get  on  by  the  night 
train  and  join  her  on  Friday  morning. 

He  roused  himself  from  his  reverie  to  ask  for  a 
bedroom  at  the  hotel,  and,  having  secured  one, 


172  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

went  out  for  a  solitary  walk  round  the  harbor, 
and  tried  to  resign  himself  with  what  patience 
he  could  to  the  delay. 

He  was  not,  however,  a  very  patient  man  by 
nature,  and  the  way  in  which  Chris  had  eluded 
him  at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  imagined 
her  to  be  within  his  grasp,  had  sharpened  his 
longing  for  her  and  rendered  him  keener  than 
ever  to  see  her  again. 

"She  is  the  most  aggravating,  tantalizing  witch 
on  the  face  of  the  earth!"  he  said  to  himself,  as 
he  wandered  aimlessly  about  the  dead-alive 
and  highly  uninteresting  city  of  Calais.  But 
had  he  only  known  it,  he  was  by  no  means  at 
the  end  of  her  witcheries  yet. 

There  was  no  k-tter  from  her  on  the  morrow. 
He  hung  about  the  bureau  from  morning  till 
night,  until  the  lady  in  charge  was  quite  tired 
of  answering  his  broken  inquiries  for  letters, 
and  inclined  to  lose  her  temper  with  him  be- 
cause he  did  not  eoem  to  believe  in  her  con- 
stant denials. 

He  spent  a  sleepless  night,  and  looked  white 
and  haggard  when  he  came  down  in  the  morn- 
ing; however,  his  anxieties  were  quickly  as- 
suaged by  the  sight  of  a  letter  in  Chris's  hand- 
writing. 

It  was  very  short. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  173 

"DEAR  MR.  CLIFFORD:  I  am  at  Amiens,  Hotel 
de  la  CouroDne,  opposite  the  cathedral.  Come 
as  soon  as  you  like.  Yours, 

"C.  P." 

Only  at  Amiens !  he  could  have  shouted  aloud 
for  joy.  He  rushed  upstairs  to  pack  his  bag, 
paid  his  bill,  and  was  off  to  the  station  before 
even  consulting  a  time-table;  however,  as  he 
meant  to  go  by  the  first  train  that  stopped  at 
Amiens,  his  reckless  haste  neither  helped  nor 
hindered  him,  and  within  an  hour  of  reading 
her  note  he  was  bowling  away  southwards 
towards  the  cathedral  city  to  which  she  had 
bidden  him. 


174  The  Craze  of  Christina. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IT  was  not  an  express  train,  and  a  train  that 
is  not  express  on  a  French  railway  is  the  slow- 
est conveyance  conceivable.  This  one  stopped 
at  every  single  station,  and  wherever  it  stopped 
it  waited.  What  it  waited  for  Clifford  could 
not  imagine;  sometimes  it  seemed  it  was  for 
some  faster  train  to  pass  it  by,  sometimes  it 
appeared  to  be  shunted  indefinitely,  sometimes 
again  the  only  reason  for  the  long  pause  at 
wayside  stations  appeared  to  be  that  the  guard 
and  the  station  master  might  exchange  long 
private  confidences  with  one  another. 

Amiens,  however,  was  reached  at  last,  rather 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  town  lamps  were 
all  alight  when  Clifford's  cab  brought  him  to 
the  Hotel  de  la  Couronne. 

He  descended  quickly,  paid  the  cocker,  and 
inquired  eagerly  for  Miss  Pratt. 

The  burly  landlord,  who  met  him  at  the  door, 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  extended  his  fat 
hands  with  a  deprecating  smile. 

"Ah,  m'sieur,  je  suis  desole!    Cette  dame  est 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  175 

partie.  Ze  ees  gaun,  zur,"  he  added  in  explana- 
tion, perceiving  that  the*  man  before  him  was  a 
Britisher  of  the  most  unmitigated  type,  and 
desirous  of  airing  a  small  smattering  of  his  own 
English,  of  which  he  was  vain. 

Clifford  sank  back  helplessly  against  the 
wall. 

"Gone!"  he  repeated  blankly,  and  he  looked 
so  white  and  strange  that  the  landlord  hastened 
to  administer  the  consolation  of  which  he  was 


"Votre  nom  est  Cleefforde,  n'est  ce  pas? 
Bien,  il  y  a  une  lettre.  Zere  ees  a  lettrer." 
And  he  produced  a  crumpled  envelope  from  the 
recesses  of  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

With  trembling  hands  Clifford  tore  it  open. 

"I  am  so  awfully  sorry,  but  I  cannot  stay 
here.  Did  I  tell  you  that  I  am  traveling  with 
some  relations?  One  of  them  is  an  invalid,  and 
lam  sure  the  drains  at  this  hotel  are  wrong; 
our  invalid  is  quite  ill  this  morning,  and  the 
sound  of  the  cathedral  chimes  has  given  us  all 
a  sleepless  night.  We  are  leaving  at  once.  If 
you  can  stand  just  one  night  of  it  (and  if  you 
are  really  in  earnest  about  following  me,  I  be- 
lieve you  will),  then  1  will  telegraph  to  you  in 
the  morning  and  you  can  come  on.  My  rela- 
tions want  to  get  on  to  Rheims  eventually,  but 
we  shall  stop  a  day  or  two  on  the  way  some- 


1 76  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

where.    I  can't  really  say  where,  but  I  will  be 
sure  to  wire  in  the  morning.    Yours, 

"C.  P." 


After  the  first  shock  of  disappointment  Clif- 
ford experienced  an  access  of  blind  rage.  She 
had  now  eluded  him  a  second  time!  Could  it 
indeed  be  again  an  accidental  circumstance,  or 
was  she  not  rather  a  cruel  and  heartless  co- 
quette bent  upon  a  meaningless  exhibition  of 
her  own  power  over  him?  Would  it  not  be 
wiser  to  go  back  home  and  forget  her  whilst 
there  was  yet  time  to  do  so? 

Here  the  landlord  inquired  politely  whether 
monsieur  could  remain  for  the  night,  and  what 
he  would  like  for  his  dinner.  Clifford  assented 
surlily  to  the  first  question,  but  gave  him  to 
understand  that  food  was  an  absolutely  imma- 
terial subject  to  him. 

After  all  he  could  not  go  back  yet!  He  was 
shown  into  a  bedroom.  And  by-and-by,  after 
he  had  almost  enjoyed  an  excellently  cooked 
dinner  and  a  very  good  bottle  of  Burgundy,  he 
began  to  feel  better  and  more  hopeful.  He 
read  her  letter  over  again  and  began  to  see 
meanings  in  it  that  had  not  struck  him  at  first. 
She  had  in  this  letter  revealed  to  him  more  of 
her  surroundings  and  doings  than  she  had  ever 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  177 

hitherto  done.  She  was  traveling  with  rela- 
tions, she  said.  Well,  that  was  better  than 
knocking  about  France  alone!  HQ  wondered 
who  the  relations  were.  She  had  never  men- 
tioned her  family  to  him,  and  he  had  imagined 
somehow  that  she  was  an  orphan  left  alone  in 
the  world.  Then  she  had  expressed  a  belief 
about  himself,  that  he  was  really  in  earnest, 
and  that  therefore  he  would  certainly  follow 
her.  Well,  he  would  do  so.  He  sent  for  rail- 
way guides  after  dinner  and  planned  out  his  re- 
turn journey.  He  ascertained  that  by  catching 
the  express  boat  train  on  Sunday  afternoon 
from  hero — Amiens— and  by  traveling  all  night 
and  all  the  following  day  he  could  get  back  to 
Esselton  late  on  the  Monday  evening.  This  was 
of  course  all  that  was  necessary.  As  long  as 
he  could  see  Chris  and  then  get  back  in  time  to 
save  that  fifty  thousand  pounds,  nothing  else 
mattered  very  much.  She  had  led  him  a  dance, 
but  he  should  catch  her  at  last,  and  when  he 
did  so  there  would  be  no  excuse  possible  for 
her.  She  must  agree  to  his  terms.  A  three 
years'  engagement  ought  to  be  nothing  to  her, 
and  if  she  really  loved  him  she  would  consent 
to  bind  herself  to  him ;  and  they  would  manage 
to  be  happy,  as  happy  as  they  could  be  till  the 
time  of  probation  was  up. 


1 78  The  Craze  9f  Christina. 

Clifford  sipped  his  Burgundy  contentedly, 
and  lost  himself  in  day-dreams.  There  was  a 
little  cottage  on  his  estate  overlooking  a  distant 
corner  of  Esselton  Park.  In  it  he  would  estab- 
lish the  woman  he  loved.  She  should  live  there 
with  these  mysterious  "relations"of  hers — rent 
free,  of  course.  He  would  refurnish  and  deco- 
rate it  from  attic  to  cellar.  Miss  Ashley  might 
have  the  doing  of  it,  if  she  liked — provided 
only  she  could  do  it  quickly.  He  would  fill 
the  little  house  with  beautiful  things,  and  the 
tiny  garden  should  be  replenished  and  adorned 
from  his  own  greenhouses  and  gardens.  The 
nest  should  be  made  perfect  for  his  love.  And 
there  she  should  live  till  their  wedding  day,  so 
close  to  him  that  he  could  see  her  every  day 
and  bask  himself  continually  in  the  sunshine  of 
her  smiles  and  in  the  warmth  of  her  kisses. 

At  this  juncture  he  discovered  that  he  had 
finished  the  bottle  of  Burgundy,  and  he  rose 
from  the  table  refreshed,  exhilarated — a  new 
man  altogether ! 

When  he  went  up  to  bed  he  kissed  her  letter 
and  put  it  under  his  pillow,  chiding  himself  for 
his  want  of  faith  in  having  doubted  her  for  one 
single  moment. 

In  the  morning  the  telegram  came,  brief  but 
satisfactory: 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  179 

"Laon,  Hotel  de  1'Oiseau." 

He  set  off  full  of  new  hope.  Laon  was  com- 
paratively near;  he  would  get  there  by  one 
o'clock,  and  he  would  find  her  at  last.  He  did 
not  get  there  till  nearly  two,  the  train  being 
an  abnormally  slow  one,  with  two  changes  of 
carriages.  Still  he  got  there  at  last. 

Laon  is  one  of  the  most  beautifully  situated 
towns  imaginable.  It  stands  upon  the  summit 
of  a  very  high  hill,  crowned  by  the  quaint  and 
beautifully  pierced  towers  of  a  lovely  cathedral. 
From  all  the  four  corners  of  these  towers,  tier 
above  tier,  look  out  the  stone  images  of  huge 
placid -faced  horned  cattle,  the  cattle  who,  as 
tradition  says,  dragged  up  the  stones  from  the 
plains  below,  of  which  the  ancient  church  is 
built,  and  who  are  therefore  forever  commemo- 
rated and  incorporated  in  the  structure  they 
helped  to  build.  Around  the  cathedral  the 
narrow  streets  cluster  thickly,  and  walled  ram- 
parts surround  the  whole  city,  which  commands 
a  wide  and  magnificent  view  of  vast  and  fertile 
plains  stretching  away  on  three  sides  of  it. 

So  immediately  beneath  the  ramparts  that 
one  can  almost  drop  a  stone  down  upon  its  roof 
is  the  railway  station  and  the  modern  suburb 
which  surrounds  it.  The  hill  is  so  steep  and 
the  road  zigzags  in  such  frequent  gradients 


180  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

that  it  takes  a  long  time  for  the  little  French 
horses  to  clamber  up  Jto  the  town;  at  any  rate, 
to  Clifford  the  upward  drive  seemed  to  be  in- 
terminable. 

Nevertheless  he  comforted  himself  by  reflect- 
ing that  here,  at  last,  he  should  run  his  fair 
fugitive  to  earth.  The  very  beauty  of  the  ro- 
mantically situated  town  gave  him  a  conviction 
of  this,  because  nobody,  however  callous,  could 
possibly  arrive  at  Laon  and  refuse  to  linger 
a  while  on  its  fascinating  heights. 

Imagine,  then,  his  horror  and  dismay  when 
upon  alighting  in  the  dark  and  old-fashioned 
courtyard  of  the  Hotel  de  1'Oiseau  he  was  once 
more  met  by  a  landlord,  whose  opening  words 
in  reply  to  his  now  accustomed  question  were: 

**Mais,  m'sieur,  je  suis  desole " 

"Pas  partie!  nong!  ne  dites  moi  pas  quelle 
est  partie!"  he  shouted  so  furiously  and  loudly 
that  the  timid  host  stepped  back  in  evident  an- 
ticipation of  a  bodily  attack. 

"Ces  Anglais  brutals!"  he  murmured,  and 
began  gesticulating  and  bowing  and  holding  out 
his  upturned  palms  in  an  endeavor  to  make  his 
meaning  clear. 

"Mais  permettez  moi — if  I  am  permitted  to 
eggsplain,  zur — "—this  landlord  alco  knew  a 
little  English. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  181 

But  Clifford  was  deaf  to  his  feeble  endeavors ; 
he  had  fallen  to  clenching  his  fists,  and  cursing 
in  an  unknown  tongue;  his  face  was  flushed, 
his  eyes  rolled  wildly.  It  was  little  wonder 
that  Monsieur  Chabot  took  him  for  a  madman. 

"II  y  a  une  lettre  pour  vous,  m'sieur,"  he 
managed  fit  last  to  get  out.  "Vous  etes  Mon- 
sieur Cleefforde,  n'est  ce  pas?" 

Clifford  grabbed  at  the  letter.  It  was,  of 
course,  he  supposed,  the  same  thing  over  again 
—more  excuses,  yet  another  journey,  and  a 
further  delay!  No;  he  would  not  follow  her 
any  more,  ho  would  believe  in  her  no  longer! 
He  would  not  even  read  her  letter!  There  was 
more  than  accident  in  all  this — it  was  done  on 
purpose,  a  plot,  a  scheme  to  ruin  him. 

Great  heavens!  all  at  once  a  terrible  thought 
rushed  into  his  mind!  Could  it  bo  possible 
that  she  was  not  what  she  seemed  to  be  at  all, 
but  a  female  detective  paid  by  his  enemies, 
those  horrible  people  in  Australia,  to  lead  him 
astray  and  cozen  away  half  his  fortune? 

The  idea  struck  him  like  a  thunderclap,  his 
brain  throbbed,  his  eyes  grew  blind  and  dim; 
scarce  knowing  what  he  did  he  tore  the  un- 
opened letter  in  scraps,  and  cast  them  violently 
down  and  then  stamped  on  them  with  all  his 
might  and  main. 


1 82  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Yes,  that  was  it.  She  was  nothing  but  a 
hired,  paid  female  detective,  and  he  was  her 
dupe  and  her  victim ! 

At  this  point  the  landlord  of  the  Hotel  de 
TOiseau  fled  incontinently  up  the  staircase. 
All  English  people  were  doubtless  mad,  else 
why  do  they  require  to  wash  all  over  every  day? 
But  so  violent  a  lunatic  as  this  had  never  be- 
fore come  over  from  that  insane  island  to 
frighten  honest  and  peaceable  French  citizens 
out  of  their  senses.  This  man  had  evidently 
escaped  from  an  asylum ! 

There  were  voices  on  the  stairs,  a  confused 
hubbub  on  the  landing  above,  a  noise  of  hurry- 
ing footsteps,  of  doors  banging. 

Clifford  heard  and  heeded  nothing;  his  only 
thought  now  was  escape.  The  vehicle  that  had 
brought  him  had  vanished;  he  could  see  no 
other  in  the  courtyard.  Yet  he  must  go  at 
once,  he  must  go  back  to  England;  the  time 
was  not  too  long,  for  it  was  already  Saturday 
afternoon.  If  he  got  back  to  Amiens  that  even- 
ing he  could  then  catch  the  morning  boat  train 
and  be  across  the  channel  by  this  time  to-mor- 
row ;  and  the  sooner  he  put  the  ocean  between 
himself  and  this  false  and  delusive  woman,  the 
sooner  he  burnt  his  ships  and  out  her  out  of  his 
existence  the  better. . 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  183 

He  felt  like  a  man  who  has  escaped  a  great 
danger,  and  who  is  still  dazed  and  stunned  with 
the  shock  of  what  might  have  been.  But  at 
least  he  would  save  his  money. 

He  shouldered  his  portmanteau  and  had 
already  turned  towards  the  door  in  order  to 
tramp  down  the  hill  again  to  the  station,  when 
a  voice— a  woman's  voice— an  Englishwoman's 
voice — called  to  him  from  the  staircase  at  his 
back: 

"Mr.  Clifford!  Mr.  Clifford!  don't  go  away, 
stop  a  minute,  stop!" 

He  stopped  and  turned ;  the  voice  was  not 
Christina's,  but  in  some  way  it  reminded  him  of 
her  voice. 

He  saw  a  slight  young  lady  running  down  the 
staircase  towards  him.  She  was  not  beautiful 
like  Christina,  for  she  was  small  and  pale  and 
delicate  looking,  yet  somehow  she  was  like  her. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Clifford,  please  don't  go  away,  we 
want  you  so  dreadfully  badly!" 

"We?"  he  repeated  blankly. 

"Yes,  Christina  and  I;  I  am  Christina's 
sister." 

"Christina's  sister?"  he  repeated  again, 
stupidly. 

"Yes,  I  am  Ella.    Did  you  not  read  her  note?" 

He  glanced  ruefully  down  at  the  torn  morsels 


184  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

of  the  letter  that  still  littered  the  floor  of  the 
hall. 

"I — I  tore  it  up,"  he  faltered. 

"Without  reading  it?  Oh!  but  did  not  the 
landlord  tell  you?" 

"I  did  not  listen  to  him.  Miss  Pratt  is  here, 
then?"  and  the  light  came  back  into  his  eyes. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,  and  oh,  Mr.  Clifford, 
come  upstairs,  pray.  Do  help  us,  ^we  are  in 
such  dreadful  trouble,"  and  Ella  began  to  cry. 

"My  dear  Miss  Ella,"  and  he  took  her  hand, 
"of  course  I  will  help  you;  what  is  it?" 

"Our  dear,  dear  father  died  this  morning! 
The  hurried  journey  was  too  much  for  him — he 
had  an  attack  of  the  heart — and  he  has  suc- 
cumbed. You  will  stay  and  help  us,  won't 
you?" 

He  followed  her  upstairs  in  horrified  silence. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  185 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DOCKER  had  been  nearly  distracted  when  the 
week  of  Mr.  Clifford's  absence  passed  away 
and  there  was  no  sign  of  his  return  home.  To 
do  this  worthy  butler  justice  he  was  not  at  all 
anxious  for  Mark  Clifford's  undoing— quite  the 
contrary ;  he  desired  him  to  keep  to  the  terms 
of  the  will,  and  to  remain  master  of  Esselton  as 
long  as  he  lived,  principally,  no  doubt,  because 
he  had  a  comfortable  berth  himself  at  the  hall, 
and  had  no  wish  to  give  it  up,  but  partly,  too, 
because,  in  spite  of  appearances,  he  really  rather 
liked  his  new  master.  Mr.  Clifford  was  easy  to 
manage;  he  could  turn  him  round  his  finger,  he 
fancied— and  Docker  liked  a  sense  of  power  im- 
mensely—and he  quite  thought  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  him  to  have  a  more  submis- 
sive master.  He  looked  forward  to  good  times 
to  the  end  of  his  days  as  Clifford's  right  hand 
and  factotum,  and  it  would  certainly  be  no  ad- 
vantage to  him  if  Charles  Greville  and  his 
family  were  to  turn  Mark  Clifford  out  of  his 
new  inheritance.  They,  he  knew,  would  be 


1 86  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

bound  by  no  insane  conditions,  and  could,  if 
they  chose,  turn  him  out  of  his  situation  at  a 
month's  notice,  just  as  if  he  were  any  other  or- 
dinary butler. 

It  had  been  James  Docker's  doing  that  the 
clause  in  the  will  concerning  the  three  years 
that  must  elapse  before  Clifford's  marriage  had 
been  inserted.  Docker  had  not  relished  the 
idea  of  a  "missus,"  and  he  had  safeguarded 
himself,  as  he  believed,  for  a  comfortable 
period  of  time  against  such  an  unwelcome  con- 
tingency. 

Docker  had  had  Henry  Greville  completely 
under  his  thumb;  and  he  now  hoped  to  place 
his  new  master  in  the  same  position.    Mark's 
youth  confirmed  him  in  the  conviction  that  it 
would  be  a  very  simple  matter  to  reduce  him 
to    the  same    level    as    his  late  master;    for 
Docker,  like  a  great  many  elderly  men  of  all 
classes,  had  a  supreme  contempt  for  youth.    He 
forgot  to  take  into  account  that  the  old  miser, 
now  dead  and  buried,  had  been  almost  in  his 
second  childhood  when  his  ingenious  and  ener- 
getic butler  had   put  it  into  his  mind  to  add 
those  remarkable  clauses  and  conditions  to  his 
will  which  were  to  tie  up  his  heir  under  the 
iron  rule  of  his  own  manservant.    It  had  been 
very  easy  to  play  upon  the  old  man's  master 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  187 

passion,  the  greed  for,  and  the  love  of  money. 
James  Docker  loved  money  too,  and  it  did  not 
seem  to  him  that  there  breathed  a  man  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth  who  could  possibly  love 
anything  else  better. 

Therefore  when  Monday  night  came,  and  he 
realized  that  his  master  had  stayed  away  over 
his  week,  to  the  tune  of  fifty  thousand  pounds, 
he  firmly  believed  that  Mark  must  have  gone 
out  of  his  mind. 

Early  on  the  Tuesday  morning  Docker  re- 
ceived a  telegram  which  Clifford  had  dispatched 
from  Rheims,  where  he  had  been  obliged  to  go 
on  business  connected  with  the  funeral  of 
Christina's  father.  He  had  sent  it  from  there 
in  preference  to  Laon,  because  he  was  nerv- 
ously anxious  to  conceal  his  exact  whereabouts 
from  Docker.  Docker  might  consider  it  his 
duty  to  follow  him ! 

The  telegram  was  to  the  effect  that  Clifford 
regretted  being  unable  to  come  home  at  present, 
being  detained  abroad  by  urgent  affairs. 

"What  business  have  he  to  have 'affairs,' I 
should  like  to  know,  as  I  know  nothin'  about! 
He  can't  have  anything  more  important  than 
his  money,  which  he's  a-throwin'  away  as  if  it 
was  so  much  sand!"  and  Docker  was  very 
angry  indeed  with  the  master  he  had  thought 


188  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

to  be  tied  up  so  tightly  to  home  and  to  himself, 
but  who  seemed  to  be  already  slipping  out  of 
his  chains. 

"If  he's  beginnin'  like  this,  where  will  he 
end?" he  cried  despairingly;  and  for  the  rest  of 
the  day  the  worthy  man  walked  about  the 
house  casting  up  his  eyes  and  flinging  out  his 
hands;  ejaculating  gloomily  at  intervals:  "Fifty 
thousand  pounds!  fifty  thousand  pounds!  just 
a'  thrown  into  the  gutter  for  nothink  at  all!" 

Of  course  he  confided  his  grief  to  George 
Jones,  and  to  the  clerk  of  the  works,  and  to  the 
foreman,  as  well  as  to  all  and  sundry  whom  he 
met,  and  George  Jones's  face  grew  long,  and  he 
wondered  if  his  money  was  safe,  and  he  told 
the  foreman  privately  he  shouldn't  touch  any  of 
the  other  rooms  just  yet,  but  just  finish  up 
those  that  had  been  begun  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble, and  as  cheaply,  in  case  there  should  be  any 
trouble  about  the  bill,  for  in  this  world  every- 
body thinks  of  himself  first  and  foremost. 

It  had  not  however  yet  entered  into  Docker's 
mind  that  there  was  a  petticoat  in  all  this.  He 
could  not  imagine  any  reason  strong  enough  to 
induce  Clifford  to  fling  away  so  large  a  slice  of 
his  fortune,  unless  he  was  so  ill  in  body  that  he 
was  physically  incapable  of  coming  home.  Yet 
the  telegram  had  said  nothing  of  his  being  ill, 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  189 

So  very  much  perplexed  and  exercised  in  his 
mind  was  he,  that  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
second  day  he  determined  to  go  up  to  London 
himself  on  the  morrow  and  see  Mr.  Scrubb.  It 
•was  his  duty,  of  course,  to  inform  the  trustees  of 
what  had  happened,  and  he  felt  so  much  upset 
an  1  out  of  heart  about  it,  that  a  private  con- 
sultation with  Mr.  Scrubb,  who  was  personally 
known  to  him,  seemed  to  hold  out  a  certain 
amount  of  comfort  and  consolation. 

He  set  off  by  the  earliest  convenient  train  in 
the  morning,  and  presented  himself  at  Mr. 
Scrubb's  residence  in  Russell  Square  at  about 
half-past  ten  in  the  morning. 

He  was  shown  into  Mr.  Scrubb's  library, 
which  he  entered  with  a  face  as  long  as  he  had 
worn  at  his  late  master's  funeral. 

"Ah,  Docker!  I  expected  to  see  you,  or  to 
hear  from  you,"  said  Mr.  Scrubb,  shaking 
hands  with  him,  for  Mr.  Scrubb  was  "quite  the 
gentleman,"  as  Docker  said  of  him,  and  always 
treated  him  in  private  life  as  a  friend  and  ^an 
equal. 

"I've  terrible  bad  news,  Mr.  Scrubb." 

"About  Mr.  Clifford?  yes,  it's  a  bad  job,  cer- 
tainly." 

"You  have  heard  then  that  he  has  been  away 
over  a  week?" 


190  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Yes,  I've  had  a  letter  from  him." 

"He  wrote  himself?  well,  I  never!  looks  as  if 
he  didn't  care  a  straw." 

"I  don't  believe  he  does,"  said  Mr.  Scrubb, 
stroking  his  chin  thoughtfully  "he  wrote  quite 
cheerfully." 

"Good  heavens!  do  you  think  his  mind, 
sir " 

"Oh,  his  mind  is  right  enough,  Docker." 

"What  can  possess  him  then?  It  looks  to  me 
nothing  short  of  madness  to  throw  away  a  sum 
of  money  like  that !  Do  you  think  he's  laid  up 
with  fever  or  something  or  other?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  and  Mr.  Scrubb  laughed  a 
little  as  he  referred  to  the  letter  he  had  just 
taken  out  of  his  writing-table  drawer.  "Mr. 
Clifford  goes  out  of  his  way  to  remark  that  he 
is  perfectly  well!" 

"Then  what  on  earth  can  it  be,  sir?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  it  is,  Docker— a 
woman!" 

Docker  nearly  jumped  off  his  chair. 

"Good  Lord,  sir!  how  'orrible!"he  cried  in 
genuine  dismay.  "What  ever  can  make  you 
think  such  a  hawful  thing!"  and  Docker's 
"h's,"  as  they  always  did  in  moments  of  ex- 
treme excitement,  became  somewhat  hopelessly 
mixed  up. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  191 

Mr.  Scrubb  stroked  his  parchment-like  face 
thoughtfully,  first  on  one  cheek  and  then  on 
the  other.  Being  a  bachelor  himself,  like  his 
late  friend,  as  well  as  his  late  friend's  butler, 
he  had  a  holy  horror  of  the  whole  female  sex; 
at  the  same  time,  as  he  was  no  fool,  he  recog- 
nized it  as  a  quantity  to  be  reckoned  with. 
Women  were  no  mean  and  despicable  creatures 
to  be  scorned  and  overlooked;  in  Mr.  Scrubb's 
opinion  they  were  foes  of  a  formidable  nature 
who  must  be  fought  upon  their  own  ground  and 
with  their  own  weapons. 

"In  dealing  with  a  young  man,  Docker,"  said 
Mr.  Scrubb  thoughtfully,  "it  is  never  safe  to 
leave  the  female  element  entirely  out  of  con- 
sideration ;  in  my  long  experience  of  life  I  have 
frequently  found  that  the  petticoat  is  responsi- 
ble for  a  good  many  otherwise  incomprehensi- 
ble vagaries  on  the  part  of  my  acquaintances." 

"Have  you  any  suspicinos  in  this  case,  sir?" 
inquired  Docker  gloomily,  after  a  few  moments 
of  troubled  silence. 

"None  whatever.  Beyond  the  indisputable 
fact  that  Mr.  Mark  Clifford  is  twenty-five  and  a 
personable  young  man;  he  is  also  wealthy,  and 
the  female  sex,  as  you  may  have  remarked  per- 
haps yourself,  Docker,  crowd  about  a  rich  and 
ligible  man  like  bees  around  a  honey-pot." 


192  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Docker  thought  about  the  afternoon  party  at 
Esselton  when  the  great  hall  had  been  cram- 
full  of  the  creatures  and  their  fal-lals,  and  he 
remembered  well  how  they  had  all  crowded 
about  their  host  with  smiles  and  pretty  words 
and  animated  gestures. 

He  groaned  aloud. 

"But  fifty  thousand  pounds,  Mr.  Scrubb! 
Just  think  of  it!  to  throw  away  such  a  sum  for 
a  woman!"  and  the  supreme  contempt  which 
Docker  threw  into  the  last  word  beggars  de- 
scription. 

Mr.  Scrubb  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "To 
you  and  to  me,  of  course,  such  a  wanton  waste 
of  the  only  thing  worth  living  for,  is  naturally 
quite  incomprehensible;  it  is  more,  it  is  an  un- 
pardonable sin.  But  Mr.  Clifford  is  twenty-five 
— it  is  quite  possible  that  he  has  become  infat- 
uated. " 

"You  think  then " 

"I  think  that — he  is  in  France,  it  seems.  As 
we  know,  French  ladies  are  proverbially  fasci- 
nating, as  well  as  unscrupulous.  Some  fair  siren 
has  no  doubt  laid  her  toils  for  him,  and  he  has 
flung  a  small  fortune  away  in  order  to  remain  in 
ignominy  at  her  feet!  However,  you  can  at  any 
rate  comfort  yourself  with  one  reflection-^-Mr. 
Clifford  dare  not  marry,  either  this  lady  or  any 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  193 

other,  until  the  three  years  have  elapsed.  To 
begin  with— even  if  he  were  such  an  egregious 
fool  as  to  wish  it — I  know  the  mercenary  nature 
of  these  females  too  well;  no  woman  is  likely 
to  consent  to  marry  him,  if  by  doing  so  she  ren- 
ders him  a  beggar.  It  would  be  a  killing  of  the 
goose  that  lays  the  golden  eggs!  So  far  as 
matrimony  is  concerned  your  master  is  safe, 
Docker!" 

Docker  heaved  a  portentous  sigh,  and  at  that 
moment  a  servant  entered  with  a  letter.  It  had 
come  by  hand,  and  was  marked  "Important." 
Mr.  Scrubb  opened  it  at  once. 

"Here  is  an  extraordinary  thing!"  he  ex- 
claimed, turning  to  Docker.  "This  letter  is 
from  Mr.  Joseph  Chase  of  Messrs.  Chase,  Lin- 
coln's Inn  Fields.  He  writes  to  inform  me  of 
the  death  of  their  client,  Mr.  Charles  Greville!" 

"You  don't  say  so,  sir!  I  suppose  they  have 
had  a  cable  from  Australia?" 

"He  does  not  mention  that;  in  fact  I  gather 
that  the  news  had  come  in  a  letter  from  Charles 
Greville's  daughter,  who  is  of  course  now  the 
residuary  legatee  in  the  place  of  her  father.  It 
is  with  her  now  that  we  shall  have  to  deal!" 

"That's  bad  news,  sir." 

"Yes,  I  detest  business  dealings  with 
women/* 


194  The  (Jraze  of  Christina. 

"Will  the  young  lady  be  coming  home,  sir?" 
"I  cannot  say.  Mr.  Joseph  Chase,  the  senior 
partner,  writes  himself;  he  seems  rather  mys- 
terious about  her  movements.  She  is  probably 
in  Australia,  of  course;  but  he  says  she  is 
'traveling,'  so  she  is  away  from  home;  and  he 
adds  that  he  is  not  at  liberty  to  divulge  her 
present  address.  Well,  if  you  will  excuse  me, 
Docker,  I  think  I  will  step  over  and  speak  to 
Mr.  Joseph  Chase.  I  must  write  to  your  master 
to-day  to  tell  him  the  news,  and  it  would  be  as 
well  if  I  were  to  see  Mr.  Chase  first.  I  shall 
have  good  news  to  give  him  for  his  client,  un- 
luckily !  She  has  stepped  into  fifty  thousand 
pounds  most  unexpectedly!" 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  195 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IT  is  a  week  later.  There  has  been  a  light  fall 
of  snow  during  the  night,  but  the  sky  is  deeply 
blue  without  a  cloud  this  morning,  and  Laon 
is  like  a  bride  with  a  lace  veil  wrapped  about 
her  lovely  head,  a  diamond -embroidered  veil 
that  sparkles  gayly  in  the  brilliant  sunshine. 

Clifford  and  Christina  are  leaning  together 
over  the  wall  that  surrounds  the  city,  gazing 
down  at  the  glittering  snowy  plains  far  away, 
and  at  the  white  roofs  of  the  station  buildings 
immediately  below  them. 

They  are  engaged  to  be  married,  but  Clifford, 
by  outstaying  the  prescribed  time  of  absence, 
has  hopelessly  forfeited  his  fifty  thousand 
pounds ! 

For,  of  course,  in  the  face  of  such  a  trouble 
as  death,  of  the  death,  too,  of  the  father  of  the 
woman  he  loved,  how  was  he  to  desert  her  and 
hurry  ^back  to  England  on  a  mere  matter  of 
money !  Clifford  had  felt  from  the  moment  he 
had  turned  and  gone  back  into  the  hotel  at  the 
bidding  of  Christina's  sister,  that  there  could  be 


196  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

no  longer  any  thought  of  his  returning  to  Essel- 
ton  to  save  it.  It  was  taken  out  of  his  hands 
by  a  fate  that  was  stronger  than  himself  and 
settled  for  him ;  and  perhaps  on  the  whole  he 
was  not  sorry.  The  work  he  had  immediately 
on  hand  absorbed  his  whole  attention;  he  had 
to  make  arrangements  for  the  dead  man's  fun- 
eral and  to  console  his  bereaved  daughters. 

The  sisters  had  no  wish  to  convey  their  father's 
remains  to  England.  They  had  no  English 
home,  they  said,  unless  indeed  Mr.  Clifford 
would  consent  to  his  being  buried  at  Esselton; 
but  Clifford  wouM  not  agree  to  this.  He  did 
not,  indeed,  see  why  such  an  extraordinary 
idea  should  have  entered  Ella's  head,  for  it  was 
Ella  who  had  suggested  it,  and  then  Chris  had 
negatived  the  notion  altogether  as  fanciful  and 
expensive. 

"I  am  sure  dear  papa  would  have  been  quite 
content  to  be  buried  here  in  this  beautiful 
place,"  she  said,  and  so  it  was  settled.  There 
was  a  tiny  French  Protestant  cemetery,  and  hero 
they  had  buried  him  three  days  ago.  Yet  still 
they  lingered  on  at  Laon. 

"We  have  nothing  to  hurry  back  to  England 
for,"  said  Chris,  as  she  and  her  lover — she  had 
told  him  only  an  hour  ago  that  she  loved  him, 
and  would  marry  him  somo  day — leaned  close  to- 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  197 

gether  over  the  ramparts  and  looked  out  across 
the  snow-covered  country.  "This  place  is 
quiet,  right  away  from  the  track  of  tourists.  It 
suits  Ella  and  me  to  stay  here;  I  like  it.  If 
Laon  has  brought  me  sorrow,  it  has  brought  me 
happiness  too,  Mark.  I  am  in  no  hurry  to 
leave  it." 

"Neither  am  I,  now,"  replied  Clifford.    "I 
told  you,  darling,  that  I  have  lost  some  money- 
by  staying  away  more  than  a  week;  it  was  one 
of  the  abominable  conditions,   you  know,  of 
that  confounded  will." 

"Do  you  regret  that  money?"  she  inquired. 

"Not  in  the  least  since  you  don't  mind,  Chris. 
And  after  "all,  I  am  still  a  rich  man,  and  can 
afford  to  live  at  Esselton  in  comfort.  No,  the 
only  thing  I  hate  to  think  of  is  the  unholy 
triumph  of  that  brute  Docker!  In  order  to 
steal  a  march  on  him,  I  wrote  directly  to  one  of 
the  executors  of  my  uncle's  will,  a  Mr.  Scrubb, 
whom  I  know  slightly,  and  informed  him  that 
private  affairs  had  compelled  me  to  break  one 
of  the  conditions  of  Mr.  Greville's  will ;  and  as 
a  matter  of  fact  I  must  remain  at  Laon  till  I  re- 
ceive his  answer.  I  had  a  sort  of  satisfaction 
in  letting  him  know  before  Docker  could  do  so." 

"Dearest  Mark,  you  must  get  rid  of  Docker." 

"Dearest  Chris,  I  really  can't  afford  to," 


198  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"But,  Mark,  if  ever  I  marry  you " 

"If  ever!    Oh,  Chris!" 

"Well,  of  course,  1  mean  when  I  marry  you, 
I  certainly  cannot  exist  in  the  same  house  with 
that  horrible  Docker.  Promise  me,  oh !  promise 
me." 

But  Clifford's  answer  was  unanswerable,  for 
although  four  provinces  are  in  full  view  of  the 
ramparts  of  Laon,  he  took  his  beloved  in  his 
arms  and  closed  her  lips  wi:h  kisses. 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself, 
Mark!"  she  gasped,  with  scarlet  cheeks. 

"So  ought  you,  Chris.  For  heaven's  sake  let 
us  talk  of  something  pleasanter  than  James 
Docker." 

And  so  they  did.  They  talked  about  them- 
selves for  a  full  hour,  the  great  horned  cattle 
on  the  towers  above  them  looking  down  the 
while  with  placid  satisfaction  at  the  love-mak- 
ing. Then  they  sauntered  back  slowly  towards 
the  Hotel  de  TOiseau,  where  Ella  and  dejeuner 
awaited  them. 

Then  the  post  came  in  and  Clifford  pounced 
upon  his  letters,  and  went  away  to  his  own 
rooms  to  read  them. 

Chris  and  her  sister  were  left  alone  in  a  tiny 
private  sitting-room  they  had  engaged. 

"Chris,"  said  Ella,  "aren't  you  going  to  end 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  199 

this  farce?  aren't  you  going  to  tell  him  the 
truth?" 

"Not  yet,  I  think,"  replied  her  sister,  look- 
ing away  thoughtfully  out  of  the  window  which 
overlooked  the  beautiful  towers  of  the  cathe- 
dral. 

"I  can't  understand  you.  You  seem  to  have 
become  engaged  to  him,  but  I  don't  imagine  you 
are  going  to  carry  out  the  engagement,  and  un- 
less you  do,  where  does  the  benefit  come  in? 
You  have  already  got  a  very  good  slice  of  his 
money;  isn't  it  enough?  Why  don't  you  tell 
him  who  we  are,  and  send  him  away?  It  seems 
so  base  and  mercenary,  the  whole  business,  and 
so— so  dishonest!/  Tell  him  the  truth — do, 
Chris." 

"And  earn  his  undying  scorn  and  hatred! 
My  dear  Ella,  why  should  I  be  so  foolish?" 

"But  what  do  the  man's  scorn  and  hatred 
signify  to  us?  You  will  get  this  money,  I  sup- 
pose, in  time,  and  now  that  our  dearest  father 
is  dead,  we  really  don't  require  any  more. 
Your  trick  has  succeeded  in  winning  a  sum  of 
money  sufficient  to  maintain  us  both  in  comfort 
for  the  rest  of  our  lives,  for  you  tell  me  I  am  to 
share  everything  and  live  with  you." 

"Of  course,  dear  Ella.  You  shall  always  live 
with  me  till  somebody  carries  you  off  to  a  home 


20O  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

of  your  own.  And  then  I  promise  you,  you 
shall  not  go  to  your  husband  penniless.  Yes — 
we  shall  be  very  comfortably  off,  both  of  us." 

"Well,  then,  don't  be  mercenary  and  heart- 
less any  longer,  Chris;  tell  the  man  the  truth 
and  let  Jrim  go.  He  loves  you,  I  am  afraid; 
and  it  is  like  a  cat  playing  with  a  mouse  to  keep 
him  dangling  after  you  when  you  know  you 
never  intend  to  marry  him." 

"But  I  do  intend  to  marry  him!"  cried  Chris, 
jumping  up  impetuously  and  .beginning  to  pace 
excitedly  about  the  room.  "Look  here,  Ella,  I 
am  going  to  tell  you^every  thing.  When  I  began 
with  this  thing  I  had  no  other  thought  in  my 
head  than  to  win  back  for  our  father  a  portion 
of  the  fortune  he  had  missed  by  so  little.  I 
was  as  cold-blooded  and  mercenary  about  it  all 
as  you  can  imagine,  and  I  looked  upon  Mark 
Clifford  as  an  interloper  to  be  plundered,  a  mere 
pawn  in  the  game  I  was  playing.  I  meant  to 
make  him  fall  in  love  with  me,  of  course,  be- 
cause I  wanted  him  to  run  after  me  as  he  has 
done,  so  that  he  might  break  that  condition  of 
the  will  which  gives  us  the  fifty  thousand 
pounds;  but  I  intended,  of  course,  to  stop  short 
at  that.  But  now  I  can't  stop  short.  For  the 
fact  is,  my  dear,  a  very  unforeseen  thing  has 
happened.  I  meant  Mr.  Clifford  to  fall  in  love 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  201 

with  me,  but  I  never  for  a  moment  intended  to 
fall  in  love  with  him !" 

"And  you  have  fallen  in  love  with  him?" 

"Madly,  desperately,  idiotically!  therefore, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  I  am  going  to  marry 
him!" 

"And  wait  three  years  till  you  can  do  so?" 

"Three  years!  my  dear  child,  I  can't  wait 
three  months!  It  will  be  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  that  I  shall  manage  to  wait  three 
weeks!" 

"Well,  I  must  say  that  you  manage  to  con- 
ceal these  ardent  sentiments  extremely  cleverly ! 
I  am  sure  Mr.  Clifford  doesn't  perceive  for  a 
moment  that  you  are  in  such  a  desperate  condi- 
tion of  imbecility." 

"Of  course  he  doesn't!  Am  I  a  fool,  do  you 
suppose,  that  I  should  allow  him  to  perceive  it? 
All  the  same  I  am  going  to  become  his  wife  in 
a  month,  or  six  weeks  at  latest.  We  shall  be 
married  abroad  and  all  three  go  home  together 
to  Esselton." 

"Unless  you  tell  him  who  you  are,  he  will 
not  marry  you.  You  will  never  get  him  to  re- 
duce himself  to  beggary  011  your  account." 

"I  certainly  shall  not  tell  him  who  I  am  until 
I  am  safely  married  to  him ;  if  I  were  to  do  BO 
he  is  capable  of  walking  himself  off  in  a  rage." 


2O2  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Then  I  don't  see " 

"Wait  awhile,  and  you  will  see,  my  dear 
sister!" 

"I  recommend  you  then  to  wait  the  three 
years." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  might  lose 
him  altogether.  No  man's  constancy  is  an  as- 
sured fact  until  the  law  has  safely  tied  him  up 
— and  not  always  then !  You  see  I  have  been 
down  to  Esselton;  all  the  women  of  Middleshire 
are  already  setting  their  caps  at  him.  The 
young  married  women  want  to  flirt  with  him — 
there  is  a  certain  Mrs.  Bruhen!— then  the 
mothers  of  marriageable  daughters  are  laying 
traps  for  him  and  the  daughters  are  fawning 
upon  him  and  flattering  him;  the  very  old 
maids  are  prostrating  themselves  at  his  feet ! 
and  I'd  have  an  awful  life  of  it  down  there  if  we 
were  merely  engaged!  I  should  never  feel 
safe,  or  trust ,  him  out  of  my  sight  with  any 
peace  or  comfort." 

"You  can't  have  much  faith  or  belief  in  his 
affection!" 

"When  I've  made  him  give  up  Esselton  for 
my  sake,  when  I  find  that  he  prefers  poverty 
with  me  to  wealth  without  me,  then  my  faith 
and  belief  in  him  will  be  unbounded,  and  I  shall 
never  doubt  him  again  as  long  as  I  live." 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  203 

Ella  shrugged  her  shoulders  dubiously  and 
rather  contemptuously. 

"Go  your  own  way  of  course,  Chris!  it's  not 
my  affair.  But  I  think  you  are  making  a  mis- 
take. No  man  in  his  senses  will  give  up  a  fine 
property  for  the  sake  of  any  woman's  love;  it's 
not  in  nature  to  do  such  a  thing !  Tell  him  who 
you  are  and  you  may  get  him  to  marry  you ; 
remain  'Miss  Pratt'  and  ten  chances  to  one  he 
never  will!" 

"I'll  take  the  one  chance  against  the  ten 
then,  my  dear!  Leave  it  to  me.  Only  don't 
ever  forget,  until  I  tell  you  to  do  so,  that  your 
name  is  Ella  Pratt;  it's  the  one  and  only  thing 
I  ask  you  to  remember." 

"All  right,  Chris  dear,  of  course  I  shall  do  as 
you  tell  me.  Now  I  think  I  will  go  out  a  little. 
I  am  going  up  to  the  cemetery;  will  you  come?" 

"No,  I  will  join  you  there  presently,  dear." 

Ella  went  away,  and  almost  immediately 
Clifford  entered  the  room  with  some  letters  in 
his  hands;  he  looked  excited,  and  cast  a  glance 
round  the  room. 

"You  are  alone,  Chris?" 

"As  you  see.  Ella  has  just  left  me.  What 
is  it,  Mark?  Have  you  heard  from  your  friend 
Mr.  Scrubb,  and  does  he  call  you  a  fool?" 

"He  calls  me  by  every  name  of  opprobrium 


2O4  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

that  the  English  language  can  boast  of,  I  be- 
lieve— that  is  no  more  than  I  expected.  But  an 
extraordinary  thing  has  happened ;  it  seems  that 
Charles  Greville  is  dead." 

"Really?    How  does  Mr.  Scrubb  know?" 

"Greville's  solicitors,  Messrs.  Chase,  have 
apprised  him  of  the  fact;  he  seems  to  have  died 
quite  lately." 

"How  does  that  affect  you?" 

"Well,  it  doesn't  affect  me  materially,  of 
course, Ibeoause  Miss  Greville,  the  eldest  daugh- 
ter, will  now  be  the  recipient  of  the  fifty  thou- 
sand pounds  I  have  lost  instead  of  her  father." 

"Lucky  girl!  I  say,  Mark,  you  ought  to 
marry  her!  Why  don't  you  set  off  for 
Australia  at  once  and  make  love  to  her?" 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  darling." 

"No,  but  really  I  mean  it.  It  seems  almost  a 
duty  that  you  should  at  any  rate  go  and  make 
her  acquaintance,  and  see  if  you  could  bring 
yourself  to  marry  her.  She  may  be  a  very 
charming  girl  for  all  we  know." 

"She  is  pretty  certain  to  be  nothing  of  the 
sort.  Colonial-bred  girls  are  mostly  common 
and  bad-mannered;  besides  if  she  were  a  Venus 
and  a  Minerva  rolled  into  one  it  wouldn't  matter 
to  me!  You  are  the  only  woman  on  earth  for 
me,  Chris,  and  I  must  say  I  think  it  rather  horrid 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  205 

of  you  to  say  such  a  thing  even  in  joke;  it 
doesn't  look  as  if  you  loved  me  very  much." 

"Perhaps  I  don't,"  said  Chris,  looking  at  him 
with  her  inscrutable  smile.  He  took  her  into 
his  arms  and  kissed  her  passionately. 

"You  are  a  witch,  and  I  adore  you!"  he  said, 
"and  if  only  you  loved  me  half  as  much  as  I 
love  you " 

"I  don't  know  yet  hew  much  you  do  love  me, 
Mark." 

"I  shall  hope  to  prove  to  you  how  much." 

"I  hope  you  will.  By  the  way,  is  that  all 
your  friend  Mr.  Scrubb  says?" 

Clifford  laughed.  "No,  oddly  enough,  he 
gives  me  the  same  advice  that  you  do!" 

"What?  to  go  to  Australia  and  marry  Miss 
Greville!" 

"Yes,  exactly  that,"  and  they  both  laughed 
very  much. 

"There  is  another  very  curious  thing  he  tells 
me,"  went  on  Clifford  presently — "it  is  really  a 
remarkable  coincidence— this  Greville  girl, 
whom  I  suppose,  as  her  father  is  dead,  I  must 
now  look  upon  as  my  adversary  and  enemy, 
happens  by  the  most  extraordinary  chance  to 
have  the  same  Christian  name  as  yours." 

"As  mine?"  faltered  Chris,  and  for  the  first 
time  she  was  nonplussed,  and  the  color  rushed 


206  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

in  a  guilty  flame  all  over  her  face  and  neck. 
Why  had  she  been  such  a  fool?  why  had  she 
not  called  herself  Caroline  or  Catherine?  Luck- 
ily for  her,  Clifford's  eyes  were  averted ;  he  was 
turning  over  the  pages  of  Mr.  Scrubb's  letter. 

"Yes,  here  it  is.  He  calls  her  Miss  Mary 
Christina  Greville;  isn't  it  odd?  I  never  heard, 
however,  that  you  |had  any  other  name  than 
Christina!" 

"No." 

"But  it  is  strange!  because  Christina  is  rather 
an  uncommon  name,  isn't  it?" 

She  pulled  herself-  together  with  a  violent 
effort,  and  the  utter  unconsciousness  in  his  eyes 
when  they  looked  up  at  her,  restored  her  self- 
control. 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  it's  very  uncommon!  there 
were  no  less  than  three  Christains  at  my 
school,"  she  remarked. 

"Well,  there  is  only  one  Christina  for  me,"  he 
replied  in  lover-like  style,  and  once  more  he 
kissed  her. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  207 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MB.  SCRUBB  had  not  been  very  far  wrong 
when  he  had  asserted  to  Docker  his  conviction 
that  Mark  Clifford  was  fast  held  in  the  toils  of 
a  siren. 

For  there  are  other  sirens  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  besides  those  more  notable  ones  that  are 
of  French  nationality,  and  if  it  is  agreed  that 
the  commonly  accepted  definition  of  the  genus 
is  a  charming  female  creature,  bent  on  luring  a 
feeble  man  to  his  destruction  by  the  sweetness 
of  her  voice  and  general  enticingness,  then  no- 
body could  better  answer  to  this  definition  than 
did  the  Australian  born  and  bred  girl,  Christina 
Greville — alias  Christina  Pratt. 

She  had  produced  a  marked  effect  upon  Clif- 
ford from  the  very  first,  but  the  love  he  had  ex- 
perienced for  her  during  their  earlier  interviews 
grew  by  leaps  and  bounds  after  he  became  en- 
gaged to  her.  Chris  was  not  only  the  most 
fascinating  personality  imaginable,  she  was  also 
the  most  delightful  companion  in  the  world. 
She  was  so  clever,  so  original,  so  versatile  both 


2o8  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

in  her  moods  and  in  her  conversation,  that  the 
man  who  could  experience  a  moment  of  weari- 
ness in  her  society  would  have  been  Aard  to 
find. 

Chris  was  a  wise  woman,  and  she  knew  very 
well  that  in  order  to  maintain  the  keenness  of 
a  man's  affection  in  its  first  freshness  he  must 
never  for  one  moment  be  allowed  to  find  him- 
self bored.  And  she  exerted  herself  to  the 
uttermost  of  her  powers — which  were  very  con- 
siderable—to keep  him  constantly  amused  and 
interested.  During  tho  long  hours  in  which 
they  daily  wandered  together  round  the  ram- 
parts or  amongst  the  picturesque  streets  of  the 
little  French  cathedral  town,  they  held  long 
and  absorbing  conversations  together  upon 
every  subject  under  the  sun,  and  Clifford  be- 
came more  and  more  convinced  that  she  was 
the  one  woman  in  the  whole  world  for  him,  and 
naturally  he  fell  more  and  more  thoroughly 
under  the  spell  of  her  charm. 

Nothing  very  much  had  been  said  between 
them  concerning  their  plans,  for  Chris  had  in- 
tentionally and  with  a  quiet  persistence  turned 
the  conversation  into  other  channels  whenever 
Clifford  had  endeavored  to  speak  of  the  imme- 
diate future.  But  he  grew  moro  thoroughly  in 
love  with  her  day  by  day,  and  as  he  did  so  ho 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  209 

became  restless  and  impatient.  He  began  to 
long  for  the  full  completion  of  his  happiness, 
and  to  fret  and  fume  at  the  thought  of  those 
three  years  which  had  at  first  appeared  to  him 
to  be  such  a  trifling  price  to  pay  for  the  joy  of 
winning  her  in  the  end. 

The  first  time  that  he  expressed  this  feeling 
in  words  made  an  epoch  in  their  love-making  to 
Chris,  and  forthwith  she  mentally  and  silently 
turned  over  a  page  and  began  a  fresh  chapter, 
as  it  were,  in  her  own  secret  consciousness  of 
the  march  of  events. 

They  were  walking  in  the  country  upon  the 
adjacent  hills  at  the  back  of  the  town,  along  a 
lane  bordered  with  leafless  trees  on  either  side, 
when  Clifford  with  a  sigh  remarked : 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  marry  you  at  once,  my 
darling!  It  does  seem  hard  that  I  should  be 
doomed  to  wait  for  you  so  long!  For  although 
no  doubt  we  shall  manage  to  be  fairly  happy  in 
the  interval,  yet  it  will  not  be  the  same  thing 
as  it  might  have  been.  Well,  we  must  see  each 
other  every  day,  Chris,  when  you  come  to  Eng- 
land. But  I  sadly  fear  we  shall  have  a  short 
Darting  to  go  through  before  then." 

"How  so,  Mark?" 

'Well,  you  see,  I  want  to  settle  you  and  Ella 
down  in  that  cottage  I  told  you  about  on  the 


2io  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

eastern  extremity  of  the  park ;  it  is  on  the  side 
farthest  away  from  Oldcastle,  so  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  ever  saw  it.  A  low  white  house  with 
a  thatched  roof;  it  stands  in  a  small  garden  ex- 
actly opposite  the  lodge  gates  on  that  side." 

"No,  I  never  saw  it." 

"Well,  it  is  empty,  and  has  not  been  occu- 
pied for  some  years,  so  I  expect  it  will  want  a 
lot  doing  to  it  before  it  is  ready  to  receive  you. 
I  am  afraid  it  will  take  a  month  or  six  weeks  at 
least,  and  I  am  thinking  that  I  ought  perhaps 
to  leave  you  next  week  and  go  back  and  put 
things  in  train,  so  as  to  be  able  to  send  for  you 
and  Ella  the  very  moment  it  is  habitable.  Who 
shall  I  give  the  job  to?  Shall  it  be  to  your  old 
friend,  Miss  Ashley?  or  do  you  think  Maud  Om- 
maney  would  undertake  it?  Then  there  is 
Mrs.  Bruhen,  who  has  been  so  anxious  to  have 
a  bit  of  furnishing  and  decorating  to  do." 

"My  dear  Mark,  why  have  anything  to  do 
with  any  one  of  those  women?" 

"You  mean  you  would  like  to  do  it  yourself? 
Happy  thought!  Why  shouldn't  you  and  Ella 
come  and  stay  with  me  at  Esselton  for  a  month 
and  arrange  it  all  yourselves?  That  would  be  a 
truly  delightful  plan,  Chris,  and  would  do  away 
with  the  parting  between  us,  which  I  confess  I 
have  been  looking  forward  to  with  the  utmost 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  211 

reluctance,  not  to  say  dread.     Yes,  that  is  a 

lovely  idea !    I'll  go  back  to  the  hotel  at  once 

and  write  to  Docker  to  prepare  some  rooms  for 

you  and  your  sister." 

•   "Not  so  fast  please,  Mark!    I  certainly  have 

not  given  my   consent  to  this  wild    idea  of 

yours." 

"But  you  will,  won't  you?" 

Chris  laughed  and  shook  her  head. 

"How  much  reputation  would  the  ladies  of 
Middleshire  leave  me  possessed  of,  do  you  sup- 
pose, by  the  time  I  migrated  into  the  cottage 
you  propose  furnishing  for  me,  regardless  of 
expense,  my  dear  boy?" 

"How  could  anybody  find  any  cause  for  scan- 
dal in  such  a  perfectly  natural  proceeding?" 

"That  only  shows  how  little  you  know  of  the 
world,  Mark!  Such  a  plan  would  be  to  preju- 
dice the  whole  female  population  against  me 
immediately.  I  cannot  consent  to  it." 

Clifford  sighed  and  looked  miserable. 

"Then  I  suppose  I  must  resign  myself  to  the 
original  idea,  and  go  back  alone  and  get  the 
place  ready  for  you.  I'm  afraid  I  can't  do  it 
under  a  month,  and  I  do  dread  being  parted 
from  you  for  so  long!" 

Then  Chris  played  her  great  card.  Her  heart 
beat  a  little  before  she  spoke,  so  that  she  stood 


212  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

still  in  the  middle  of  the  road  in  order  to  com- 
mand her  [voice  more  fully,  and  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his  sleeve  and  turned  her  beautiful 
eyes  up  to  his  face,  whilst  a  faint  smile  played 
about  her  lips.  He  thought  he  had  never  seen 
her  look  more  deliciously  adorable. 

"If  you  only  loved  me  well  enough,  Mark, 
we  need  never  be  parted  at  all,  not  for  a  single 
day/' 

"Loved  you  well  enough,  Chris!  Why,  I  wor- 
ship the  very  ground  you  tread  upon.  How 
can  you  speak  of  my  affection  in  such  doubtful 
terms?  And — what  can  you  possibly  mean? 
How  can  we  avoid  being  parted?  I  wish  to 
heaven  I  could  see  any  means  of  avoiding  a 
separation— but"— and  he  broke  off  hopelessly. 

"It  is  very  simple,  dear.  I  cannot  go  and  live 
rent  free  in  a  cottage  you  propose  furnishing 
expensively  on  purpose  for  me;  it  would  hurt 
my  pride  to  do  so.  Besides  which,  it  would 
set  all  the  scandal-mongers  talking  and  be  most 
injurious  to  my  good  name.  Don't  be  offended, 
Mark,  but  I  am  not  going  to  live  in  that  cottage 
at  all." 

"Chris!  you  can't  mean  it— then  what?" 

"Let  me  speak,  please,  before  you  interrupt 
me  again,  rash  man!  You  say  you  wish  you 
could  marry  me  at  once,  so  I  am  now  going  to 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  213 

tell  you  what  I  will  do  for  you.  I  will  go  back 
to  Amiens  next  week — or  why  wait  till  next 
week?  we  will  go  to-inorrow,  you  to  one  hotel, 
and  Ella  and  I  to  another,  and  there  we  will  call 
upon  the  English  chaplain — I  have  ascertained 
that  there  is  one  there,  and  a  chapel  where 
there  are  English  services— and  as  soon  as  the 
reverend  gentleman  can  make  the  necessary 
arrangements  we  wiir  be  married  then  and 
there,  and  after  that  we  will  go  straight  back 
to  Esselton  as  man  and  wife  and  take  the 
natives  by  storm." 

Clifford  literally  gasped  for  breath.  Her 
programme  was  so  delightful,  so  intoxicating  to 
contemplate,  and  yet  so  utterly  and  entirely 
impossible  to  accomplish! 

"What  do  you  say  to  my  little  plan,  sir?"  she 
inquired  playfully,  laying  her  head  down  upon 
his  shoulder;  "would  you  like  it?  or  am  I  a 
brazen  and  immodest  girl  to  propose  such  a 
thing?" 

"Oh,  never  that,  my  sweet  Chris!  never  that! 
--and  like  it?  oh,  of  course,  I  shouldn't  be  made 
of  flesh  and  blood  if  I  didn't  like  such  a  thought! 
But,  my  darling,  you  forget  that  horrible  and 
abominable  will !  If  I  were  to  do  such  a  per- 
fectly delightful  thing  as  to  marry  you  like  that 
out  of  hand,  why,  there  would  be  no  Esselton 


214  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

Hall  for  us  to  go  back  to  at  all!    It  would  be 
mine  no  longer." 

"But  I  suppose  that  wretched  woman  who 
would  get  it  couldn't  turn  you  out  under  three 
months'  notice,  could  she?  she  would  have  to 
get  back  from  Australia  first  in  any  case,  so  that 
we  could  spend  our  honeymoon  there,"  and  Chris 
gave  his  arm  a  gentle  pressure  as  she  spoke. 
But  for  once  the  magic  of  her  touch  scarcely 
thrilled  him;  for  the  first  time  she  seemed  to 
him  less  clever  than  he  had  always  believed  her 
to  be.  The  speech  she  had  just  uttered  was  the 
speech  of  a  silly  spoilt  child,  rather  than  the 
rational  remark  of  a  sensible  and  cultivated 
woman. 

He  threw  a  quick  glance  into  her  face  before 
he  replied,  and  she  read  disapproval  and  doubt 
in  his  eyes;  she  had  of  course  been  prepared 
.for  that. 

"It  is  not  like  your  clever  and  sensible  self, 
Chris,  to  talk  in  that  wild  way.  You  know 
perfectly  well  that  you  are  proposing  impossi- 
bilities! it  is  cruel  of  you  to  do  so!  Granted 
that  we  were  left  in  undisturbed  possession  of 
the  house  for  a  couple  of  months — which  is  far 
from  certain — or  that  I  were  still  allowed  to 
draw  upon  an  income  that  would  no  longer  be 
mine,  what  would  await  us  at  the  end  of  that 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  215 

brief  time  of  uncertain  happiness? — nothing  but 
beggary !  I  should  find  myself  with  only  five 
thousand  pounds  in  the  world,  and  be  reduced 
to  earning  my  living  again  by  the  most  precari- 
ous of  all  methods;  how  would  you  like  that, 
Chris?" 

"I  have  a  little  money  of  my  own,  dear,"  she 
murmured  sweetly,  nestling  to  him;  "we  could 
live  in  a  modest  way — 'love  in  a  cottage,'  you 
know!" 

"It  would  be  love  in  a  garret!"  he  replied 
with  some  impatience.  He  believed  the  for- 
tune she  alluded  to  to  be  a  mere  pittance. 

"I  would  rather  it  were  that  than  have  to 
wait  three  whole  years  for  'love  in  a  palace!'  ' 
she  cried  impetuously;  "but  then,  as  you  see 
for  yourself,  my  love  is  more  disinterested  than 
yours!" 


2t6  The  Graze  of  Christina. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AFTER  that  they  walked  back  to  the  hotel  in 
absolute  silence.  Chris  felt  that  she  had  better 
not  say  any  more  for  the  time,  and  Mark  was 
hurt  beyond  words  by  her  last  remark. 

It  wanted  only  that,  that  she  should  doubt  the 
sincerity  of  his  love!  Surely  she  could  not  be 
so  cruel  as  to  mean  it,  knowing  as  she  did  that 
he  had  already  thrown  away  a  small  fortune  in 
order  to  stay  abroad  and  be  a  help  to  her  in  her 
recent  bereavement.  His  heart  was  hot  and 
angry  against  her,  but  it  pained  him  sorely  to 
find  it  so,  because  to  be  wrath  with  those  we 
love  is  the  very  hardest  thing  in  the  world  to 
endure. 

When  they  got  inside  the  house  he  could  bear 
it  no  longer,  but  followed  her  upstairs  to  the 
little  private  sitting-room.  Luckily,  Ella  was 
not  in  the  room.  Clifford  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him.  Chris  looked  round  somewhat  coldly 
and  elevated  her  eyebrows  as  though  in  surprise 
at  his  action.  He  did  not  usually  invade  their 
tiny  salon  uninvited. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  217 

"Look  here,  Chris,"  he  began  in  a  suffocated 
voice,  "I  can't  quarrel  with  you!" 

"My  dear  Mark,  it  takes  two  to  make  a 
quarrel!  I  am  not  quarreling!" 

"You  have  accused  me  of  a  terrible  thing." 

"I  have  not  'accused'  you  of  anything.  I 
have  stated  a  fact." 

"A  fact!    Oh,  Chris!  how  unjust  you  are!" 

"Is  it  not  a  fact  that  whereas  I  could  bear 
poverty  with  you  gladly  and  joyfully,  you  do 
not  love  me  enough  to  face  poverty  with  me? 
Can  you  deny  that  this  has  been  the  long  and 
short  of  all  that  has  been  said  between  us?  You 
love  your  money  more  than  you  love  me." 

"How  can  you  say  so  when  already  I  have 
sacrificed  a  large  sum  in  order  to  remain  in  your 
society?" 

She  could  make  no  direct  reply  to  this.  She 
seemed  to  be  considering  with  herself  for  a 
brief  space.  Then  suddenly  her  whole  aspect 
changed.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  and 
the  wonderful  smile  that  always  seemed  to 
carry  conviction  as  well  as  rapture  to  his  heart, 
beamed  in  her  lovely  eyes  and  was  reflected  on 
the  rosy  curves  of  her  lips. 

"Ah,  Mark!  do  consider!  How  many  bad 
names  have  you  not  cast  at  me  during  the  last 
ten  minutes?  I  have  talked  in  a  wild  way !  I 


218  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

am 'cruel' and 'unjust'!  lam  everything  that 
is  bad!  Only  please  tell  me  that  you  love  me 
just  the  same." 

Needless  to  say  that  he  did  so  promptly,  and 
in  the  most  practical  and  convincing  manner 
imaginable. 

The  glamor  of  her  charm  once  more  over- 
powered him,  and  in  the  nearness  of  her  beau- 
tiful person  and  in  the  touch  of  her  lips  upon 
his  own  he  entirely  forgot  the  anger  and  the 
dismay  with  which  he  had  listened  to  her  reck- 
less proposition. 

Nevertheless  the  subject  having  once  been 
mooted  was  not  allowed  to  drop.  During  the 
next  two  days  Chris  rarely  lost  an  opportunity 
of  vaunting  the  disinterested  affection  of  persons 
who  had  thrown  in  their  lot  with  one  another 
regardless  of  worldly  considerations. 

She  led  the  talk  upon  such  instances  of  what 
she  termed  "unselfish"  love,  extolling  their  dis- 
regard of  all  prudential  and  monetary  matters, 
and  mentioning  with  contempt  those  who  con- 
sidered the  manage  de  convenance  to  be  the 
most  desirable  form  of  matrimonial  alliance. 

To  hear  Chris  talk,  one  might  have  supposed 
that  human  beings  could  live  upon  morning 
dew  and  wild  strawberries,  sweetened  by  love, 
and  that  the  payment  of  butchers  and  bakers 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  219 

and  grocers  was  the  vilest  and  basest  of  earthly 
considerations. 

Clifford  divined  the  hidden  meaning  of  these 
remarks,  and  wondered  very  much  what  had 
come  to  her.  He  was  puzzled  by  this  new  de- 
velopment, yet  he  could  not  believe  that  she 
was  serious  in  desiring  him  to  forfeit  his  whole 
fortune.  He  felt  indeed  that  it  was  too  much 
to  ask  of  any  man,  and  that  she  herself  must 
know  it,  and  could  only  be  saying  these  things 
to  tease  him  or  to  try  him. 

Nevertheless  there  were  occasions  when  the 
subtle  pleasure  of  dwelling  upon  the  plan  she 
had  proposed  almost  overcame  his  prudence 
and  Lcommon  sense,  so  cleverly  did  she  cause 
him  to  realize  its  sweetness. 

One  evening  they  had  wandered  out  together 
on  the  ramparts,  tempted  by  the  brilliancy  of  a 
particularly  beautiful  moonlight  night.  Chris 
had  wrapped  a  fur  cloak  about  her  shoulders  and 
had  drawn  the  soft  hood  over  her  head,  and 
her  face  framed  in  by  the  dark  fur  seemed  to 
shine  with  an  unusual  tenderness  at  him  under 
the  bewitching  radiance  of  the  moon.  The 
world  was  very  still,  only  an  occasional  footfall 
broke  the  silence  of  the  stone-paved  streets; 
the  wide  plains  of  Northern  France  lay  asleep 
beneath  a  veil  of  shimmering  mist.  Presently 


2zo  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

high  up  in  the  cathedral  tower  the  great  clock 
chimed  forth  the  hour,  and  distant  echoes  from 
the  quiet  world  below  flung  back  faint  musical 
reverberations  through  the  moonlit  air.  It  was 
a  veritable  lovers'  hour. 

For  some  moments  our  lovers  were  speech- 
less—the beauty  of  the  world  about  them  held 
them  with  a  happy  silence.  Then  with  a  little 
sigh  Chris,  who  was  leaning  upon  Clifford's 
arm,  pressed  more  closely  to  his  side,  so  that  a 
subtle  tremor  of  heavenly  delight  stole  through 
every  pulse  of  his  being. 

"Ah,  Mark !  but  for  you  how  happy  we  might 
both  be!  and  how  soon  we  might  be  happy!" 
she  whispered  with  a  sigh. 

"Oh,  my  love,  why  do  you  tempt  me?"  he 
asked,  and  in  the  tender  modulation  of  his  voice 
she  read  his  possible  surrender. 

"Because-— shall  I  tell  you  why? — well,  be- 
cause I  believe  in  your  love,  Mark.  I  believe 
that  it  is  a  real  and  living  love,  only  that 
worldly  considerations  are  stifling  it  and  chok- 
ing it.  I  am  the  sort  of  woman,  my  dear,  that 
must  have  all  or  nothing!  I  cannot  be  content 
with  half  measures.  If  you  love  me  (as  I  be- 
lieve you  do),  then  you  will  make  this  sacrifice 
for  me.  You  will  give  up  everything  on  earth 
rather  than  lose  me." 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  221 

"Lose  you!"  he  repeated,  and  even  in  the 
moonlight  his  face  went  whiter,  whilst  his  voice 
shook. 

"Yes— lose  me.  That  is  what  it  comes  to,  for 
in  the  very  depths  of  my  heart  I  know  that  I  am 
not  able  to  give  myself  and  all  my  life  to  one 
who  will  not  prove  to  me  that  he  loves  me  sin- 
cerely enough  to  forfeit  every  earthly  consider- 
ation for  my  sake." 

"Chris,  do  you  know  what  it  is  that  you  are 
saying  to  me?"  he  answered,  deeply  moved; 
"do  you  understand  the  alternative  you  place 
before  me?" 

She  [nodded.  Her  face  was  very  grave  and 
sweet  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  silvery 
mists  upon  the  plains.  And  in  the  depths  of 
her  naughty  little  heart  she  was  saying  to  her- 
self: 

"Dare  I?  Am  I  quite  sure  of  him  yet?  If  I 
put  him  to  the  final  test  shall  I  lose  him  alto- 
gether?" 

And  the  result  of  five  minutes'  silence  was 
that  she  did  not  dare. 

She  only  nestled  closer  to  him  and  put  up  her 
face  in  its  framing  of  soft  dark  fur,  and  with  all 
the  womanly  passion  of  which  she  was  ^capable 
she  whispered: 

"Kiss  me!" 


222  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

He  responded  to  the  words  with  a  fervor  to 
which  he  had  never  yielded  before,  holding  her 
beautiful  form  close  to  his  breast  and  raining 
down  passionate  kisses  upon  her  upturned  face. 
She  was  half  frightened  by  the  tumult  she  had 
called  into  life,  for  [she  could  feel  the  'strong 
beating  of  his  heart  against  her  [own,  and  she 
shrank  away  and  wrenched  herself  .out  of  his 
arms  with  a  little  natural  womanly  timidity. 

He  let  her  go  the  moment  he  felt  her  struggle 
in  his  embrace,  and  for  some  moments  they 
stood  in  silence.  Clifford's  whole  being 
throbbed  with  the  delirious  excitement  she  had 
aroused  in  him. 

"Ah,"  he  said  at  last,  and  his  voice  was  hoarse 
and  rough  with  emotion,  "ah,  you  are  a  witch, 
and  you  can  do  what  you  like  with  me!  I  be- 
lieve I  might  be  capable  of  any  folly,  any  mad- 
ness, any  wickedness  even— for  your  sake." 

Chris  said  to  herself  that  she  was  sure  of  him 
now!  But  like  the  wise  woman  she  was  she 
forbore  to  press  her  advantage.  She  knew 
very  well  that  the  moonlight  was  responsible 
for  a  large  portion  of  his  ardor. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  223 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

DURING  the  next  two  days  Chris  allowed 
things  to  slide  back  into  their  usual  grooves. 
She  made  no  more  allusions  to  the  subject  that 
had  been  under  discussion  between  them,  and 
she  exerted  herself  to  be  everything  that  was 
charming  and  fascinating  in  their  daily  inter- 
course. The  weather  had  become  delightful, 
and  a  little  excursion  to  a  ruined  chateau  about 
twelve  miles  away,  along  the  spur  of  hills  be- 
hind the  town,  diversified  the  life  of  the  three 
travelers. 

It  was  a  day  to  be  long  remembered.  Clifford 
engaged  an  open  carriage,  and  the  sisters  pro- 
vided the  lunch,  which  they  all  three  discussed 
in  a  sunny  corner  of  the  ruins,  sitting  on  some 
moss-covered  bowlders  which  had  fallen  cen- 
turies ago  from  their  place  high  up  on  the  keep 
of  the  old  castle;  at  their  feet  the  ground  sloped 
away  down  to  the  plains  and  the  view  was 
nearly  as  fine  as  from  Laon  itself. 

"When  you  go  on  your  honeymoon,  Chris," 
remarked  her  sister,  "it  ought  to  be  in  the  sum- 


224  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

mer,  and  you  ought  to  come  back  to  this  coun- 
try and  see  it  when  the  trees  are  all  out  and 
the  hillsides  are  clothed  with  vineyards" 

"Perhaps  I  may  never  have  a  honeymoon," 
remarked  Chris  lightly. 

"What  do  mean?"  queried  Clifford,  turning 
round  sharply. 

"Only  what  I  say, dearest  Mark;  no  more  and 
no  less,"  replied  Chris,  looking  at  him  with  her 
charming  smile.  "Honeymoons  are  out  of  date, 
I  believe.  I  may  never  be  called  upon  to  en- 
dure such  an  old-fashioned  ordeal." 

"I  rather  think  you  will,  dear,"  replied  Clif- 
ford with  conviction.  "I  like  old-fashioned 
ways,  and  I  am  determined  to  have  a  honey- 
moon of  the  good  old  sort." 

"Yes?"  Chris  ate  her  cold  chicken  thought- 
fully, then  added  quite  heartily:  "I  hope  you 
will  enjoy  it  then." 

He  looked  at  her  uneasily.  Ella's  presence 
forbade  him  to  question  her  more  narrowly,  but 
he  could  not  quite  understand  her,  and  he  felt 
anxious  and  uncomfortable. 

He  could  not  forget  that  she  had  spoken  once 
about  his  "losing"  her.  Several  times  that  ex- 
pression of  hers  had  come  back  to  his  mind  since 
the  moonlight  evening  on  the  ramparts  and  had 
caused  his  heart  to  fail  him.  But  she  had  said 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  225 

no  more,  and  he  had  been  content  to  let  things 
alone. 

He  had  put  that  remark  down  in  his  own 
mind  to  a  condition  of  unnatural  excitement  in 
her,  just  as  he  had  realized  with  the  coolness  of 
morning  light  (coupled  with  a  downpour  of  rain) 
that  some  of  the  assertions  he  himself  had 
made,  concerning  his  willingness  to  sacrifice 
anything  she  might  wish  to  please  her,  went 
possibly  a  little  beyond  the  mark.  The  moon- 
light and  the  witchery  of -the  night  had  made 
them  both  lose  their  heads,  he  fancied. 

All  the  same,  he  could  not  quite  rid  his  mind 
of  her  words.  And  the  result  was  that  an 
element  of  uncertainty  had  stolen  insensibly 
into  his  love-making.  He  began  to  reel  that  he 
was  not  sure  of  her.  Oh,  clever  Christina!  to 
have  managed  without  lessening  her  hold  upon 
him,  to  give  him  this  most  valuable  impression! 
She  knew,  did  this  wise  little  witch,  that 
nothing  on  earth  increases  and  feeds  and  quick- 
ens the  fire  of  man's  love  so  much  as  a  sense  of 
insecurity!  That  which  he  possesses  abso- 
lutely and  indisputably,  is  not  half  so  interest- 
ing to  the  male  imagination  as  that  which  he  is 
afraid  of  losing! 

From  the  moment  that  this  sense  of  doubtful 
tenure  took  hold  of  Clifford's  mind  his  ulti- 


226  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

mate  doom   was   a   foregone    conclusion — and 
Chris  knew  it. 

Nothing  further  however  occurred  to  ruffle 
the  serenity  of  the  atmosphere  on  the  day  of 
the  picnic  to  the  ruins.  They  talked  on  general 
subjects,  and  Ella,  who  was  always  more  or  less 
afraid  of  putting  "her  foot  in  it"  with  regard  to 
the  secret  of  their  identity,  listened  to  them 
almost  in  silence  and  with  thoughts  that  often 
wandered  sadly  to  the  father  they  had  so  lately 
lost,  and  whose  favorite  child  she  had  been. 

Nevertheless,  when  the  two  sisters  were  alone 
that  evening,  Ella  ventured  upon  a  gentle  re- 
monstrance. 

"Of  course,  dear  Chris,  I  don't  wish  to  inter- 
fere in  your  plans,  but  do  you  think  it  quite 
wise  to  torment  poor  Mark  as  you  do?  I 
noticed  he  turned  quite  pale  when  you  were 
talking  about  honeymoons,  and  I  don't  wonder, 
for  you  really  almost  seemed  to  imply  that  you 
yourself  had  no  interest  in  his  honeymoon." 

€*I  haven't.    Not  the  slightest." 

"Are  you  going  to  throw  him  over  then,  after 
all?" 

Chris  only  smiled  to  herself. 

"You  seem  to  me  to  be  playing  a  very  dan- 
gerous game,  my  dear  sister.  I  often  think 
dear  papa  would  have  disapproved  of  your  push- 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  227 

ing  things  so  far.    Are  you  sure  yourself  what 
you  are  going  to  do?" 

"Quite." 

"I  wish  I  knew!"  sighed  Ella. 

"My  dear  child,  you  shall  know.  I  am  going 
to  become  Mrs.  Mark  Clifford  before  the  end  of 
the  week." 

"My  dear  Chris,  impossible!" 

"Not  at  all.  I've  put  everything  in  train. 
I've  already  nearly  settled  everything  with  the 
English  clergyman  at  Amiens.  Don't  look  so 
shocked,  Ella;  you  make  me  laugh!  We  are 
going  back  there  to-morrow  or  the  day  after  at 
latest!" 

"But,  Chris!  Mark  said  just  now  that  he 
should  have  to  go  back  to  England  very  soon. 
Did  you  not  hear  him  say  so  when  we  were 
driving  home?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  heard  him  perfectly.  I  have  no 
doubt  he  will  go  back;  he  may  in  fact  start  on 
his  homeward  journey  to-morrow ;  so  shall  we. 
And  at  Amiens  we  shall  all  make  a  halt.  Don't 
be  anxious,  it  will  be  all  right." 

"So  you  tell  me,  but  I  can  hardly  believe  it. 
It  seems  to  me  that  your  hold  upon  Mark  is 
very  much  slighter  than  it  was. " 

"On  the  contrary,  it  is  stronger  than  ever!  It 
is  never  safe  to  trust  to  appearances,  my  dear!" 


228  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

The  bell  for  the  table  d'hote  dinner  rang  at 
this  moment  and  put  an  end  to  a  conversation 
which  left  poor  Ella  in  the  Llast  stages  of  mys- 
tification. 

During  dinner  the  English  post  came  in,  and 
after  a  cursory  glance  at  his  letters  Clifford  said 
to  Chris  with  a  sigh : 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  tear  myself  away  to-mor- 
row, dearest.  They  seem  to  want  me  very 
badly  at  home.  According  to  Docker  the  work 
at  Esselton  is  at  a  standstill,  and  George  Jones 
is  clamoring  for  my  presence.  I  shall  have  to 
leave  by  the  ten  o'clock  express." 

"Well,  that  is  all  right,  because  Ella  and  I  are 
going  as  far  as  Amiens  to-morrow  by  the  same 
train." 

"You  are  leaving  Laon?" 

"Yes.  I  am  tired  of  it.  Will  you  wait  with 
us  at  Amiens  for  a  day  or  two,  Mark,  and  take 
us  both  back  to  England?  Or  do  you  prefer  to 
go  on  at  once,  and  alone?" 

He  looked  at  her  oddly.  He  could  not  under- 
stand her.  All  he  could  say  now  in  a  low  voice 
was: 

"You  know  that  if  I  had  my  will  I  would 
never  leave  you  again." 

After  dinner  he  tried  to  speak  to  her  alone, 
but  there  was  a  drizzling  rain,  and  going  out  was 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  229 

impossible,  and  Ella  had  established  herself  in 
the  sitting-room.  A  tete-a-tete  was  out  of  the 
question. 

The  following  morning  they  all  three  left 
La6n  together.  When  Mark  went  to  take  their 
tickets  at  the  station  Chris  said  to  him : 

"Take  them  all  three  as  far  as  Amiens 
only." 

"But  I  am  going  to  London." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  she  replied,  turning  away 
coldly;  "certainly,  if  you  prefer  it." 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  took  two 
rapid  steps  across  the  platform  after  her. 

"Is  it  your  special  wish  that  I  should  break 
my  journey  at  Amiens,  Chris?" 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  and  her  eyes 
danced. 

"Will  it  nob  give  us  a  little  longer  together, 
darling?"  she  murmured  caressingly. 

"All  right,  of  course  then."  And  he  took  all 
the  tickets  as  far  as  Amiens  only. 

It  was  at  Amiens  that  she  was  to  play  her 
last  card ! 

They  arrived  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
sisters  went  to  the  Hotel  de  la  Republique, 
whilst  Clifford  obeyed  orders  and  repaired  to  his 
old  quarters  at  the  Couronne. 

"It  was  all  very  well  in  an  out  of  the  way 


230  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

corner  of  the  world  like  Laon,"  said  Chris,  "but 
here  one  might  run  across  friends  at  any  mo- 
ment, and  it  looks  better  to  be  at  different 
hotels." 

Almost  as  soon  as  they  arrived  at  their  hotel, 
Chris,  leaving  Ella  to  unpack,  started  forth 
alone  on  a  private  excursion  of  her  own.  She 
took  nobody  into  her  confidence,  and  she  was 
away  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  On  her 
return  she  found  Clifford  awaiting  her  im- 
patiently in  the  entrance  hall  of  her  hotel. 

"Where  on  earth  have  you  been?  I've  been 
waiting  for  you  ever  so  long." 

"Oh,  I  only  went  out  for  a  walk." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me?  I  would  have 
gone  with  you.  Ella  did  not  know  which  way 
you  had  gone,  or  I  would  have  followed  you. 
Come,  I  can't  bear  to  lose  you  for  a  moment 
now!"  he  added,  drawing  her  hand  under  his 
arm.  "Let  us  go  for  a  stroll,  I  have  lots  to  say 
to  you." 

But  they  walked  in  silence  till  they  reached 
the  Cathedral  Place,  where  they  paced  back- 
wards and  forwards  along  the  wide  stone-flagged 
space  in  front  of  the  beautiful  west  door. 

"And  yet,  "  said  Chris,  slowly  answering  his 
last  remark,  "and  yet  in  all  probability  you  are 
going  to  lose  me  this  evening  for  ever." 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  231 

He  stood  stock-still,  and  a  deadly  coldness 
rushed  all  over  him. 

"For  God's  sake,  explain  yourself!"  he  fal- 
tered. 

"I  am  going  to  explain  myself,  Mark." 


232  The  Craze  of  Christina. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  explanation  when  he    received  it  was 
brief  but  very  explicit. 

"I  find  on  thinking  it  over,"  she  said,  "that  I 
am  unable  to  submit  to  the  ordeal  of  a  three 
years'  engagement.  It  is  contrary  to  all  my 
ideas  of  happiness,  nor  am  I  at  all  sure  that  I 
could  remain  true  to  my  promises  to  you  for 
that  length  of  time.  Please  do  not  interrupt 
me,  Mark!  I  want  you  to  hear  me  out  first"- 
she  spoke  very  calmly  and  deliberately,  almost 
coldly  in  fact.  "You  are  going  to  say,  I  know, 
that  this  does  not  augur  any  deep  affection  on 
my  part.  But  that  would  be  an  erroneous  idea. 
I  love  you  now,  passionately  and  deeply,  but  I 
am  naturally  suspicious  and  possibly  change- 
able, and  I  could  never  continue  to  believe  [in 
the  sincerity  of  a  man  who  was  ready  to  lay 
aside  his  claim  to  me  for  so  long  a  time.  How- 
ever much  I  might  strive  to  keep  my  faith  in 
you  alive,  I  should  be  constantly  filled  with 
doubts  of  you  and  with  jealousy  concerning 
other  women;  therefore,  I  have  determined  not 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  233 

to  submit  myself  to  a  trial  of  strength  which  I 
am  convinced  beforehand  would  only  end  in 
failure,  and  in  unspeakable  misery  for  us  both. 
It  is  far  better  that  we  should  part  now  and  for- 
ever than  that  our  engagement  should  drag  it- 
self out  in  endless  quarrels  and  misunderstand- 
ings, which  would  too  surely  lead  us  to  the 
same  ending— that  of  an  absolute  severance  of 
our  relations  to  one  another." 

Clifford  leaned  back  speechless  against  the 
iron  railings  that  surrounded  the  cathedral ;  his 
face  grew  white  and  ghastly,  and  he  uttered  a 
groan  of  agony. 

"Is  this  then  to  be  the  end  of  all!"  he  mur- 
mured broken-heartedly.  "Can  you  indeed 
mean  to  throw  me  over  so  heartlessly  and 
cruelly;  have  you  no  remorse,  no  pang  in 
treating  me  so  badly?" 

"Pangs  and  remorse  enough,  my  dearest 
Mark !  do  not  mistake  me.  To  part  with  you 
now  is  as  great  a  pain  to  me  as  it  can  possibly 
be  to  you ;  it  will  be  in  fact  the  greatest  sorrow 
of  my  whole  life." 

"Then,  Chris,  how  can  you  even  speak  of 
such  a  thing !  what  object  have  you  save  to  tor- 
ture me?" — he  seized  her  unwilling  hand  and 
prisoned  it  fast  within  his  own. 

"Because,  according  to  your  own  decision,  it 


234  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

must  be  so,  Mark.  You  yourself  have  laid 
down  this  horrible  condition,  that  we  are  to 
wait  three  years." 

"I? — I?  Oh,  you  know  that  it  is  not  my 
doing!  that  it  is  as  hard,  nay,  far  harder  on  me 
than  on  you.  Why  do  you  blame  me  for  a  folly 
of  which  I  am  but  the  helpless  victim !" 

"  You  are  not  helpless !  you  can  break  through 
that  odious  condition  if  you  will,  just  as  you 
broke  through  the  other  one." 

"And  reduce  both  myself  and  you  to  pov- 
erty !  How  can  you  ask  me  to  do  so?" 

They  began  walking  up  and  down  again  side 
by  side  in  silence.  Chris  stole  side  glances  at 
her  companion.  He  was  evidently  terribly  agi- 
tated; his  breath  came  rapidly,  his  lips  worked, 
he  clenched  and  unclenched  his  hands  spasmodi- 
cally. She  was  sorry  for  him,  but  she  took  care 
not  to  betray  her  pity. 

"Let  me  put  it  to  you  plainly,  and  briefly,  once 
again,  Mark,"  she  resumed  in  a  quiet  and  gentle 
voice.  "I  cannot  remain  engaged  to  you  for 
three  years;  it  is  out  of  the  question.  I  refuse 
absolutely  to  do  so.  If  you  still  adhere  to  your 
determination,  still  cling  to  this  wretched  gold 
which  has  come  like  a  nightmare  between  us, 
then  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said,  because 
you  will  then  prove  to  me  indisputably  that  you 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  235 

love  your  wealth  more  than  you  love  me,  and  I 
will  have  none  of  you !  The  man  whom  I  marry 
must  place  me  first,  above  all  else  on  earth,  and 
I  will  marry  no  one  who  does  less  for  me  than 
that!" 

"Have  you  finished?"  he  said  after  a  moment 
in  a  suffocated  voice. 

"Oh,  dear  no,  not  nearly!"  she  replied 
sweetly,  with  a  total  change  of  voice  and  man- 
ner. "You  have  not  yet  looked  at  the  reverse 
of  the  picture;  shall  I  show  it  to  you,  Mark 
Clifford?" 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  her.  All  the  stern- 
ness and  hardness  had  melted  now  out  of  her 
lovely  face,  he  only  saw  her  beautiful  Chining 
eyes  and  the  wonderful  and  inscrutable  smile 
that  seemed  to  light  up  her  whole  face.  She 
laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  with  a  caressing 
gesture. 

"Another  course  of  action  is  still  quite  open 
to  you.  Instead  of  posting  off  to  England  alone 
to-morrow  morning,  you  can  remain  here  with 
me.  We  will  have  a  quiet  day  together  making 
a  few  necessary  preparations,  and  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  the  English  clergyman  here, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Robert  Smith,  will  marry  us  at 
the  little  chapel." 

"Chris!" 


236  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"Yes,  I  daresay  I  should  be  considered  a  very 
fast,  forward,  unmaidenly  girl  in  your  dear, 
old-fashioned,  conventional  England,  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  I  have  been  taking  a  few  pre- 
liminary steps  during  the  last  ten  days,  and  I 
have  seen  Mr.  Smith  just  now — a  special  license 
is  in  his  possession — it  only  remains  for  you  to 
go  and  settle  everything  with  him  this  evening ; 
so  now,  decide:  which  do  you  Jove  best,  your 
money  or  me?" 

There  was  a  long  moment  of  silence — Clif- 
ford's heart  beat  almost  audibly — twice  he 
opened  his  lips,  and  twice  he  remained  speech- 
less. At  last  words  came  to  him  breathlessly, 
tumultuously : 

"Have  your  own  way!  Queen,  siren,  sor- 
ceress— whatever  you  are — you  have  conquered 
me!  I  have  no  will  but  yours,  no  desire  on 
earth — save  for  you!" 

Then  in  the  gathering  darkness  he  took  her 
passionately  in  his  arms  and  swore  that  he 
loved  her  better  than  health  or  wealth  or  life 
itself! 

The  temptation  had  been  too  subtle  and  too 
overwhelming,  and  Chris  triumphed  all  along 
the  line.  He  had  surrendered  at  discretion 
completely  and  entirely,  and  when  he  left  her 
it  was  to  hurry  off  to  the  hotel  of  the  English 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  237 

chaplain  who,  having  been  properly  primed  and 
prepared  as  to  what  was  expected  of  him,  gave 
him  every  assistance  and  encouragement  possi- 
ble. Good  Mr.  Smith  was  amused  to  find  him- 
self a  participator  in  a  little  romantic  episode. 
An  heiress  and  a  fortune,  and  a  story  of  true 
love,  was  the  impression  he  had  received  from 
the  beautiful  young  lady  with  whom  he  had 
been  lately  in  correspondence,  and  with  whom 
he  had  had  an  interview  an  hour  or  so  ago. 

"So  long  as  you  sign  your  own  name  in  the 
register,"  he  had  told  her,  "and  not  the  one  you 
have  thought  fit  to  assume,  there  will  be  no 
irregularity  whatever  in  your  marriage." 

"But  you  will  keep  my  secret,  Mr.  Smith, 
when  Mr.  Clifford  calls  upon  you?" 

Mr.  Smith  promised  to  do  so,  and  he  kept  his 
word. 

The  revelation  only  came  home  to  Clifford 
after  the  marriage  service  had  been  duly  read 
over  them,  and  he  and  Chris  were  man  and 
wife.  The  little  wedding  party  of  three  ad- 
journed to  a  small  recess  curtained  off  with 
green  baize  from  the  rest  of  the  bare  and  barn- 
like  chapel,  and  there  Mark  Clifford  signed  his 
name  on  the  page  Mr.  Smith  presented  to  him, 
after  which  "Mury  Christina  Greville"  was 
written  in  firm  and  legible  characters,  followed 


238  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

by  the  more  feeble  caligraphy  of  "Ella  Gre- 
ville,"  the  witness  of  the  marriage. 

In  speechless  amazement  Clifford  looked  from 
one  to  the  other  of  the  sisters,  and  Chris  turned 
a  laughing  face  towards  him,  whilst  Ella's 
downcast  countenance  was  suffused  with  guilty 
blushes. 

He  said,  however,  not  one  single  word  until 
the  three  found  themselves  together  in  the  fly 
which  waited  outside  to  take  them  back  to  the 
hotel. 

"Explain  yourselves!"  he  then  cried,  in  be- 
wilderment. "Why  have  you  signed  that  name? 
Chris,  speak  the  truth  at  once.  What  does  it 
mean?" 

•'It  means,  my  dearest  Mark,  that  you  have 
married  a  'bad-mannered,  half-educated, 
frumpy  colonial  girl'  after  all!  Oh,  you  see,  I 
have  not  forgotten  any  of  your  complimentary 
remarks,  Mr.  Clifford!" 

"Then— now  I  understand,"  he  exclaimed, 
"what  you  meant  by  'your  England'  yester- 
day!" 

"Well — yes,  that  is  the  only  slip  of  the  tongue 
I  have  made  from  first  to  last,  I  flatter  myself!" 
she  answered,  laughing. 

But  Mark  did  not  laugh.  He  was  staring  at 
her  solemnly  and  steadfastly. 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  239 

Ella  almost  tearfully  entreated  him  to  for- 
give them  the  trick  that  had  been  played  upon 
him. 

He  did  not  even  hear  her.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  Chris. 

"And— you  must  have  known  all  about  the 
will?"  he  said  at  last. 

"I  could  quote  yards  of  it.  I  know  it  by 
heart.  'And  whereas  the  aforesaid  Mark  Clif- 
ford shall  not  at  any  time  or  upon  any  pre- 
text  '  " 

"Spare  me!"  he  cried,  putting  up  his  hand. 

"I  think  we  have  quite  conclusively  defeated 
the  old  buffer,  haven't  we?'  she  said  gleefully. 

He  appeared  still  to  be  half  bewildered. 

' '  Then — you  are  the  residuary  legatee !  Great 
Scott!— how  blind  I  have  been!" 

"Blind  as  a  legion  of  moles,  my  own!" 

"You  are  a  very  wonderful  woman,"  he  ob- 
served seriously,  but  as  he  looked  into  the 
lovely  eyes  that  were  so  brimful  of  fun  and  de- 
light he  relented,  and  a  responsive  smile  stole 
into  his  face. 

"Little  wretch!  how  you  have  fooled  me!" 

"Only  for  your  ultimate  good,  dearest!" 

"And  how  about  Esselton  and  my  eight  thou- 
sand a  year,  Mrs.  Clifford?" 

"All  mine—every  acre  and  every  penny!" 


240  The  Craze  of  Christina. 

"You  have  swindled  me  out  of  my  fortune ; 
madam,  what  have  you  left  me?" 

"Nothing,  sweet  sir — save  myself — if  you 
count  that  nothing!"  and  she  leaned  her  face 
forward  so  that  he  could  no  longer  resist 
her. 

"My  witch!"  he  murmured  tenderly,  as  he 
took  it  between  his  hands  and  kissed  her  on 
the  lips.  "We  will  go  home  to  Esselton  to- 
morrow," he  added  joyfully. 

"Yes,  dearest,  that  is  exactly  what  I  intended 
all  along!"  replied  Chris,  who  of  course  must 
have  the  last  word. 

Then  the  vehicle  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the 
Hotel  de  la  Republique,  and  Ella  hurried  on  be- 
fore them  to  hasten  the  ample  dejeuner  which 
had  been  ordered  to  be  ready  for  thorn  on  their 
return,  but  Chris  slipped  her  hand  into  her  hus- 
band's and  drew  him  back  for  a  moment  to  her 
side. 

"Mark,"  she  whispered,  "you  owe  me  one 
thing  more;  one  rapturous  benefit  which  I  have 
bestowed  upon  you  has  not  yet  been  mentioned 
between  us." 

"What  is  that,  darling?" 

"You  will  be  able  to  give  Docker  a  month's 
warning  the  very  instant  we  get  back  to  Essel- 
ton !" 


The  Craze  of  Christina.  241 

"Human  bliss  can  certainly  soar  no  higher 
than  that!"  he  exclaimed,  laughing. 

"M'sieur  et  madame,  le  dejeuner  est  servi," 
said  the  hotel-waiter,  flourishing  a  table-nap- 
kin and  bowing  low  in  front  of  them.  For  of 
course  that  waiter  knew  all  about  the  wedding. 


THE  END. 


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Cbc  Past,  Present  and  future 

of  the 


BY  A,  D.  HALL, 

is  a  companion  volume  to  the  work  on  "Cuba  and 
Porto  Rico."  These  books  tell  you  just  what  you  most 
wish  to  know  about  the  Philippines  and  Hawaii,  and 
point  out  to  the  reader  where  the  best  opportunities 

THE  PHILIPPINES 

Hall  has  in  these  books  produced  works  of  which  he 
may  well  be  proud.  In  all  the  mass  of  information 
which  has  been  put  forth  on  these  localities,  both  in 
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plete.  The  cost  is  a  mere  bagatelle  O/VW/VII 
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Hawaii  has  a  very  interesting  and  romantic  history 
well  worth  reading,  while  the  Philippines  have  until 
recently  been  so  unknown  to  us  that  any  information 
is  new.  Bound  in  style  uniform  with  "  Cuba  and  Porto 
Rico,"  and  containing  the  latest  authentic  maps  of  the 
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OUR  NEW  POSSESSIONS. 


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A  new  empire  has  been  opened  for  the  industrial  con- 
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of  Spanish  misrule  and  oppression  which 
has  kept  Cuba  and  Porto  Rico  from  as- 
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commerce  of  the  world?  What  were  the  causes  that 
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of  these  fertile  isles  ?  What  is  the  opportunity  for 
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opened  up  to  us  ?  What 
is  the  mineral  wealth  of 
Cuba  and  Porto  Eico,  and 
where  does  it  lie  ?  What  are  the  agricultural  possibili- 
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jects of  interest  are  exhaustively  considered  in 

"Tie  Past,  Present  ani  Fntnre  of  Onto  and  Porto  Rico," 

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special  care  and  exhaustive  research.  Mr.  Hall  does 
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BY   WILL   M.   CLEMENS, 

Author  of  "  Theodore  Roosevelt  the  American,  His  Life  and  Work" 
"A  Ken  of  Kipling"  "  The  Depcw  Story  Book"  etc. 

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various  chapters,  which  are  as  follows:  "The  Dewey  Ancestry," 
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tenant,"  "The  Battle  of  Port  Hudson,"  "In  the  Years  of  Peace," 
"Life in  Washington,"  "The  Battle  of  Manila  Bay,"  "The  Official 
Records,"  "Dewey  the  Hero,"  "After  the  Battle,"  "Days  of 
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Miss  Mathers  has  written  many  excellent  books,  but 
none  has  achieved  such  renown  as  this  her  latest  and 
most  original  work.  It  is  the  story  of  a  husband  and 
wife  whose  affections  have  been  estranged.  The  wife 
is  a  good  woman  and,  although  severely  tempted,  main- 
tains her  integrity  to  the  end.  In  England,  where  this 
work  first  appeared  last  year,  it  became  the  sensation 
of  the  day,  and  realizing  that  it  would  prove  a  great 
success  in  America,  we  purchased  the  copyright  for 
the  United  States  from  Miss  Mathers.  This  book  is  one 
that  will  prove  equally  acceptable  to  the  lover  of  a  good 
novel  and  to  the  deep  thinker.  It  is  more  than  a  mere 
story.  It  is  a  vivid  picture  of  real  life. 


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THE:    ROIN/IAIMCELS    OF  £ 

AMEDEE  ACHARD. 

This  author  is  not  by  any  means  as  familiar  to  American  and 
English  readers  as  the  merit  of  his  work  would  warrant.  It  is  a 
positive  pleasure  to  exploit  the  writings  of  one  so  well  equipped  for 
a  foremost  position  in  the  school  of  which  Alexaiidre  Dumas,  Theo- 
phile  Gautier  and  Stanley  J.  Weyiua-n  are  the  accepted  standards. 
Mons.  Achard's  works  are  popular  favorites  with  the  French  people, 
and  the  excellent  translations  of  his  best  novels  which  we  are  pre- 
senting to  the  public  in  moderate-priced  editions  de  luxe  cannot  fail 
to  please  and  satisfy  all  lovers  of  "  The  Three  Musketeers,"  "A 
Gentleman  of  France,"  "  Captain  Fracasse,"  and  works  of  like  tenor. 
Not  a  little  of  the  satisfaction  these  books  will  give  to  the  readers  is 
due  to  the  excellent  work  of  the  translators,  who  have  caught  the 
spirit  of  the  author,  and  rendered  his  charming  romances  into  the 
equivalent  English  idiom  without  that  stilted  observance  of  the 
eccentricities  of  the  French  language  which  has  spoiled  so  many 
otherwise  good  translations  of  French  authors.  Tnia  is  the  only 
English  translation  of  these  works  which  has  yet  been  made. 

NOW   READY 

BELLE=ROSE 


A  Romance  of  the  Cloak  and  Sword. 

TRANSLATED  BY  WILLIAM  HALE. 

To  which  is  prefixed  a  biography  of  the  distinguished  author  fry  the 
translator. 

"  The  charm  that  is  always  to  be  found  in  the  works  of  the  best 
French  writers  niiick,  terse  description,  bright  dialogue,  rapidly 
shifting  scenes  and  incidents  leading  up  to  intense  climaxes  -  is  well 
sustained  in  the  story  of  'Belle-Rose.1  It  is  a  romance  in  which  the 
hero  undertakes  and  conquers  all  manner  of  dii'liculties  for  the  love. 
of  a  woman,  and  the  author  throws  the  glamor  of  love  and  war  over 
all,  introducing  such  celebrated  characters  in  history  as  give  it  the 
air  of  reality,  until  the  reader  must  regret  at  the  close  that  it  has 
come  to  an  end.  The  purest  love  of  woman,  the  fidelity  of  man,  the 
sacredness  of  friendship,  intrigues  of  the  court,  jealousi.  s  and  ^ 
revenge,  a  delightful  touch  of  humor  or  pathos  coining  to  ihe  relief  ^ 
at  some  most  tragic  climax,  gives  the  story  a  most  powerful  fasciua-  ^ 
tion.  Emile  Faaw-t  s/i<-nl:n  <>f  tin-  '  Hi'llf-Kose'1  of  Ami-dec  Achard  y 
an  superior  in  *£e  ('fii/itdhti-  /•>i/r</.s>vf.'1  hi/  Tfu-njili/li-  <l<ni.lier."  + 

BOUND  IN  HANDSOME  CLOTH,  PRINTS  OH  HEAVY  PAPER.  368  PACES,  FIVE  FULL-       $ 
PACE  ILLUSTRATIONS,  $1.25 


STREET  &  SMITH,  Publishers, 

232-238  William  Street,  New  York. 


Street  &  Smith's 

Cloth  Bound 
Books 

A 

H  Descriptive  List 


ERE  are  some  features  which  are  common 
to  the  entire  list  of  books  which  follows : 
They  are  of  uniform  size,  sXx7f6  inches, 
consequently  well  suited  for  a  collection 
for  a  library  shelf.  They  are  well  bound, 
with  gold  top,  elaborate  cover  designs,  and 
good  paper,  with  pages  of  the  standard  i2mo 
size,  3^x6  inches.  Each  book  contains  from  200 
to  400  pages.  The  only  difference  between  the 
35C.  books  and  those  at  500.,  $1.00  and  $1.25  is 
that  the  works  at  the  higher  prices  are  bound  in 
more  expensive  cloth,  and  are  printed  on  a  better 
grade  of  paper.  The  35C.  books  will  prove  a 
source  of  lasting  satisfaction,  in  quality  of  bind- 
ing, paper  and  contents,  but,  of  course,  the  higher 
priced  works  are  more  elaborate. 

Every  work  in  this  list  is  protected  by  copy- 
right, and  every  book  is  a  good  one. 
ic  


Roec  Scries 

Ht  35  cents 


No.  i.     Geofiry's  Victory,  by   MBS.    GEORGIE 
SHELDON. 

One  of  the  best  stories  that  has  been  produced  by 
this  well-known  author. 

No.  2.     Dr.  Jack,  by  ST.  GEORGE  RATHBORNE. 

A  book  famous  the  world  over.    This  is  the  story 
that  established  Mr.  Rathborne's  fame. 

No.  3.     Bam  Wildfire,  by  HELEN  B.  MATHERS. 

This  story  has  been  the  subject  of  favorable  com- 
ment by  the  press  of  Great  Britain.    They  unite  in  de- ' 
claring  it  to  be  Miss  Mathers'  greatest  work. 

No.  4.     Queen  Bess,  by  MRS.  GEORGIE  SHELDON. 

Beyond  a  doubt,  one  of  the  very  best  American  nov- 
els ever  written. 

No.  5.    Miss   Fairfax   of  Virginia,  by   ST. 
GEORGE  RATHBORNE. 

One  of  the  latest  and  most  popular  of  this  author's 
works. 

No.  6.     A   Difficult    Matter,   by    MRS.    EMILY 
LOVETT  CAMERON. 

A  splendid  work.  Concerning  this  book  Black  and 
White  says:  "We  have  a  few  writers  whose  books 
arouse  in  us  certain  expectations  which  are  always  ful- 
filled. Such  a  writer  is  Mrs.  Lovett  Cameron,  and  her 
story,  'A  Difficult  Matter,'  does  not  make  us  change 
our  opinion.  Mrs.  Lovett  Cameron's  admirers  will  not 
be  disappointed  in  'A  Difficult  Matter.'  It  is  a  plea- 
sant, readable  story,  told  in  an  interesting  manner." 
20  


Cbe  Rose  Series -continued 


No.  7.     A  Yale  Man,  by  ROBERT  LEE  TYLER. 

Thousands  have  read  this  book.  Thousands  more 
should  and  will.  Absorbing  from  start  to  finish. 

No.  8.     Her  Faithful   Knight,  by   GERTRUDE 
WARDEN. 

This  author  is  well  known  as  one  of  the  foremost 
writers  of  interesting  and  entertaining  fiction.  We  con- 
sider this  to  be  about  the  best  story  she  has  ever  pro- 
duced. 

No.  9.    A   Gentleman   from   Gascony,    by 

BICKNELL  DUDLEY. 

Here  we  have  a  romance  of  the  same  order  as  Du- 
mas' "Three  Musketeers"  and  Stanley  Weyman's 
"A  Gentleman  of  France." 

The  San  Francisco  Chronicle  says:  "  'A  Gentle- 
man from  Gascony,'  by  Bicknell  Dudley,  while  it  at 
once  recalls  our  dear  old  friends  of  the  'Three  Mus- 
keteers/ is  a  bright,  clever,  well  written  and  entertain- 
ing story.  The  book  gives  a  graphic  and  vivid  picture 
of  one  of  the  great  historic  epochs  of  France." 

The  Baltimore  American  says:  "'A  Gentleman 
from  Gascony,'  by  Bicknell  Dudley.  This  is  a  tale  of 
the  time  of  Charles  IX.,  the  story  opening  in  the  year 
1572.  Raoul  de  Puycadere  is  of  a  noble  family,  but  his 
possessions  have  been  squandered  by  his  ancestors,  and 
he  leaves  for  Paris  to  better  his  position  at  court.  He 
arrives  on  the  eve  of  the  massacre  of  .St.  Bartholomew, 
and  his  lady  love,  Gabriel  le,  having  heard  of  the  con- 
templated killing,  binds  a  sign  on  his  arm  to  protect 
him.  By  great  good  luck  he  is  made  equerry  to  the  King 
of  Navarre,  and  between  his  duties  as  equerry  and  his 
lovemaking  passes  through  many  exciting  adventures." 

No.  10.     A  King  and  a   Coward,  by  EFFIE 
ADELAIDE  ROWLANDS. 

This  is  a  charming  love  story  of  great  interest  and 
dramatic  strength.  It  was  recently  published  in  serial 
form,  and  was  so  unanimously  approved  that  it  has  been 
brought  out  in  book  form  at  the  special  request  of  a 
large  number  of  our  patrons. 


REV.  CHAS.  M.  SHELDON'S 
WORKS 


In  HlS  Steps  :  What  Would  Jesus  Do  ? 


Robert  Hardy  s  Seven  Days 
The  Crucifixion  of  Philip  Strong 

In  uniform  binding  in  fine  cloth,  printed 
on  a  superior  quality  of  laid  paper,  illus- 
trated, and  embellished  with  gold  top. 

PRICE,  50  CENTS  EACH 


O  writer  of  the  present  century  has  achieved 
such  a  remarkable  success  as  the  Rev.  Chas. 
M.  Sheldon.  Millions  of  copies  of  In  His 
Steps  have  been  sold  in  England,  and  other 
millions  in  America.  His  other  works  are, 
if  anything,  more  powerful  than  In  His 
Steps,  each  dealing  with  a  special  subject  in  its  relations 
to  the  life  of  a  consistent  Christian.  While  many  will  feel 
that  they  cannot  rise  to  the  moral  height  of  doing  what 
Jesus  would  do  in  every  instance,  there  is  no  doubt  that  a 
faithful  effort  to  follow  in  the  Christian  precepts  laid  down 
in  Mr.  Sheldon's  works  would  result  in  the  making  of  a 
far  better  world  for  humanity.  These  books  are  entirely 
free  from  sectarianism,  and  will  prove  equally  acceptable 
to  all  Christians,  whether  of  the  Baptist,  Methodist,  Epis- 
copalian, Congregational,  Presbyterian,  Lutheran  or  other 
denomination,  just  the  books  to  put  into  the  hands  of 
young  people.  They  are  strong  and  vigorous  works, 
whicn  have  the  attractive  qualities  of  first-class  novels, 
coupled  with  the  best  of  religious  teaching. 

cA  cheaper  edition,  in  paper,  if  published 
by  as  At  W  cents     »*»»»»*» 

STREET  &    SMITH,  238   WILLIAM   STREET 

4C 


Other  BooKs  at  50c 


By  James  M.  Barrie 

XW^XSXSO^W^/N/NX^O 


One  of  the  most  popular  books  of  modern  times.  This  story  has  been 
dramatized,  and  is  now  being  presented  to  large  audiences  throughout 
the  United  States.  The  book  is  illustrated,  printed  on  fine  paper  and  sub- 
stantially bound,  making  it  in  all  a  very  attractive  and  interesting  book. 
50  cents.  Elegantly  bound, with  gilt  top,  etc. ,  and  contains  six  illustrations. 


THE  PRINCE  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  DAVID  J 

By  Rev.  Pro/.  J.  H.  Ingraham 


This  work  is  one  of  the  most  famous  of  all  books  relating  to  the  life 
and  times  of  Christ.  The  book  consists  of  a  series  of  letters,  written  by  a 
Jewish  maiden,  visiting  in  the  Holy  City,  and  gives  a  graphic  idea  of 
the  impression  that  the  remarkable  events  of  that  period  must  have  made 
on  the  minds  of  the  people.  A  work  every  one  should  read.  Elegantly 
bound  and  printed.  Gold  top  and  illustration.  Price,  50  cents. 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  SOUTH  POLE, 

or  the  Great  Dissembler,  and  other  strange  tales 

By  Charles  Curtz  Hahn 

•SXVN^^^SXXXVS^^XX/^XWSX- 

This  book  by  Mr.  Hahn,  the  Editor  of  the  Omaha  World-Herald,  is 
a  unique  production.  The  first  tale,"The  Great  Dissembler,"  is  founded  on 
the  theme  of  a  shipwrecked  traveler,  who  lands  in  an  unknown  country 
near  the  South  Pole,  and  finds  the  inhabitants  to  be  gifted  with  the  power 
of  mind-readHig.  The  strange  complications  that  arise  from  this  remark- 
able condition,  and  the  peculiarities  of  a  government  of  mind-readers 
bv  mind-readers,  form  a  distinctly  interesting  story.  The  other  tales  in 
this  book  are  made  up  mainly  of  stories  of  the  supernatural  and  the  ex- 
traordinary. Mr.  Hahn  has  proved  himself  a  master  at  this  class  of  work, 
and  the  book  will  undoubtedly  have  a  wide  circulation.  Elegantly  bound 
in  cloth,  with  gold  top  and  fine  laid  paper.  Price,  50  cents. 


HOW  TO  BE  BEAUTIFUL 

,/N/^/VX^>^>rf>\<>N/<«N/NXNrf>X^/^/N/>/>rf%XN/>^>.>NXVSXNXNXVWV<»»\/> 

This  valuable  Hand  Book  of  Beauty  has  had  such  a  widespread  sale 
in  paper  at  10  cents,  that  we  have  published  this  elegant  edition  in  cloth 
for  those  who  desire  the  work  in  a  more  permanent  form.  The  eighteen 
chapters  of  this  book  cover  the  whole  subject  of  Beauty,  including  full 
instructions  which,  properly  followed,  will  enable  any  woman  to  enchance 
her  personal  charms.  Elegantly  bound  in  cloth,  with  fine  paper  and  gold 


+    top.     Price,  50  cents. 


5c    • 


****«**•  JL~/JL  A    A  i  JJL.J 

MINISTER 


BvJ.M.  BARRIE 


[HERE  have  been  so  many  copies  of  this 
book  already  sold  that  it  does  almost  seem 
as  if  everybody  was  supplied,  but  still  the 
demand  continues.  Its  dramatization  and  produc- 
tion in  our  principal  theatres  has  added  greatly  to 
its  popularity.  Not  to  have  read  this  work  is  to  be 
not  properly  in  touch  with  the  literature  of  the  day. 

STREET  &  SMITH'S 

COPYRIGHT  EDITION,  AT  THE  RIGHT 
PRICE,TEN  CENTS  (No.  96,  Eagle  Library)  is 
printed  from  new  plates,  and  is  just  as  good  as  editions 
retailing  at  a  higher  price.  /&  There  is  also  a  hand- 
some Street  &  Smith  edition  in  cloth  binding,  at  5oc. 

FOR  SALE  BY  ALL  NEWSDEALERS,  OR  SENT  BY  MAIL, 
POSTPAID,  BY  THE  PUBLISHERS 

STREET  &  SMITH,  Publishers,  New  York 

014 


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